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Rhaun Dreamspeaker

"All shall play their part"

0 · 211 views · located in USA

a character in “Paranormal Dilemmas”, as played by Howlkin Stranger

Description

The Lykae King’s lead adviser
Image




Name
Rhaun Dreamspeaker

Nickname
Some mistake his name to be Ron as the pronunciation is virtually the same

Age
32 (Approximately 4200)

Gender
Male

Appearance
Rhaun’s human form is reasonably robust, though still not seeming much different from a regular human. His well-toned albeit scarred figure is frequently obscured by the simple loose-fitting clothing he favors. His amber eyes tend to regard his surroundings with a strange sort of dignified contemplation, perhaps stemming from what he is able to perceive. Whenever he focuses on a person, it might seem that he is almost peering through them and beyond into something known only to him. His slightly unkempt short hair is dark though tinged with gray rather amply for his apparent age. His short beard and his thick brows are comparatively more even in terms of the dark coloration. His height of 6'0" is below that of his king, but then again the effect of Rhaun’s presence doesn’t come from outward appearance…

Occupation
Lead adviser to the king and the spiritual guide of the Lykae

Skills/Equipment
Like all of his kind, Rhaun has a half-animal beast form that increases his body in size, muscle mass and grants him the claws and teeth fit for a legendary beast. He is a strong hunter and powerful combatant. Furthermore he boasts a level of understanding of his inner beast that is so great one could say he’s in “full agreement” with his dual nature. Rhaun remains in full control of himself regardless of form, making for a beast in which strong mind and feral instinct become one. As dangerous as this monster with a black and gray pelt is, many find imposing the fact that Rhaun favors besting his opponents without transforming. He expertly uses a simple but sturdy staff and is known to have incapacitated even some of his brethren in their battle forms with it.

Such is his strength in combat, for it is a requirement in the society of the Lykae. But what determines his position is a more subtle and strange gift granted to him by the spirits. He was chosen to be the one to hear them and blessed to be able to contact nature itself for aid and wisdom so that he might provide aid to his kind and help maintain balance. With great knowledge of lore, the purpose and uses of various plants, the many rites of his kind – he is a man whose existence is steeped in ritual which he, in turn, passes to his kind in general. Even his sleep is at times replaced by a meditative state in which some say he vacates his own body and wanders in the dreams of others to guide them.


Personality
There is something inherently strange about Rhaun. Sure, most Lykae make an impression of there being something “else” about them, something animalistic, feral. But in Rhaun’s case this strange aura has a much different undertone and it’s hard to tell which exact feature of his (if any at all) is responsible for making that impression. Facing him is like standing in front of a noble, benevolent beast. He looks upon others with eyes one could consider tired if it weren’t for an incredible strength felt somewhere deep in them. He moves without haste unless absolutely necessary but can spring into action like a patient predator that has been stalking its prey. Still, though he certainly can kill – he won’t without reason and his very presence seems to speak of it.

He is an almost eerily calm and contemplative man who stands with a firm hold on his simple staff. When he speaks up he does so in a tone that manages to be both strong and strangely soothing, inviting to heed his advice. It’s no wonder that to Garreth this man is one of the few he would be wary of. However, much like the spirits whose voices he heeds, he has a tendency not to reveal more than is absolutely necessary. Few have the courage (or impertinence) to demand more explanation. Rhaun believes that in time all shall play their roles regardless of species, gender, age or experience. He does not oppose the customs of his kind, but is still less likely to segregate than his brethren.


History
The trials that Rhaun had gone through are all recorded upon his body and his features. His transition to the status of an agent of spirits among his kind occurred without his consent. The touch of the spirits that chose him caused the young Lykae to age at an accelerated rate, lending him a less youthful appearance than he could’ve had. Some were insulted by the spirits’ choice and fought him in defiance. Scars from those times still mark his chest and arms, refusing to fade with time like grim reminders of past challenges. Still he remained, fighting when necessary to remind that the spirits make no mistakes. He survived to witness his kind gain a new king. The strength of the Lykae who took the throne combined with advice from the spirit-chosen guide to their people served to help Garreth’s rule progress.

In a time of strife drastic changes occur. A King who rose despite inheritance, an Adviser who had been chosen by the spirits, the prophecy that speaks of three sisters who shall come to bring peace to the three warring kings – Rhaun observes all unfold around him calmly, heeding advice from the spirits and doing what’s necessary to keep his side in the conflict standing. “All shall play their part” He states, and just as the sisters, the kings and their kin shall play their part, Rhaun always stands ready to play his, whatever it may be.


Other
Rhaun has a trio of female Lykae serving him as priestesses, mostly responsible for aiding him in the rituals whenever one has to be performed, but also accompanying him when hunting. They are represented by the Waxing, Waning and Full Moon.

Post
The wounded were brought to him on that day again. They must have come from an outpost that had been raided. Some bore the insulting marks left by vampire fangs. The pain from such wounds was agonizing and those still able to make sounds made it plainly apparent with raspy howls. All of them lay on bedding spread on the very ground of the forest – there were none who could stand here, for those who could still stand weren’t in need of his help or that of his priestesses. The forest’s spirits were concerned, feeling the pain of the Lykae, wondering if any would join them tonight. Perhaps it would be so, but Rhaun and his priestesses moved forth to decrease the toll this tragic encounter would have on their people.

It was a difficult sight, but as the man set his staff aside and crouched before one of the wounded he kept his eerily calm expression. Amber eyes of the Lykae turned to the face of the one before him and it was almost as though he could see beneath the shut eyelids of the pained warrior. Although normally it would be his priestesses and other healers who would deal with such issues, with the King away and no orders given to the adviser, his presence was important to keep intact the morale and spirits of the warring kingdom. Behind his back two of his priestesses, the younger Kaya of the Waxing Moon and Lea of the Full Moon were tending to some of the wounded on their own. By his side stood Ida of the Waning Moon, the eldest of the sisters.

Rhaun glanced at her and nodded. Being the most experienced of the sisters, she knew what he was asking for and instantly reached into a small bag hanging off her shoulder, soon taking out a corked bottle that she opened with a single twisting motion of her hand. The smell of bitter herbs was a familiar thing, and the procedure of applying it to a “patient” was no less familiar. Having handed the male Lykae the bottle Ida sat by the side of the wounded warrior and placed a gentle hand upon his forehead, whispering to him soothingly to prepare for what was to come. He was one of those bitten by a vampire and the effects of it were causing him much pain. And unfortunately to be rid of it he would have to take his pain even further, if only for a moment.

With Ida providing some comfort to the wounded Lykae Rhaun finally tilted the bottle and the clear liquid poured down much like water onto the twin punctures left by their supernatural enemy’s fangs. And as soon as the liquid touched upon the wounds it hissed and the body of the Lykae warrior writhed so strongly Ida had to hold him down. His veins pulsed, the muscles in his neck so tense they were like thick cords beneath the skin of the wounded male. He howled and thrashed, the clear liquid transforming to white hissing foam, bubbling as it mixed with contaminated blood and coated the wound. The Lykae’s agony lasted a mere thirty seconds more, a small price for survival and becoming healed. Ida raised her eyes and briefly looked into the face of her mentor. Rhaun returned her glance for a moment, then gestured to the others.

“No time to rest. Next one.” And thus they continued, so that perhaps today, some don’t join the spirits of the dead.

So begins...

Rhaun Dreamspeaker's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Garreth Vilhei Frost Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker
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Rhaun Dreamspeaker

The old Lykae sat on the grass in the courtyard outside the main building of the manor that His Majesty King Garreth had purchased a bit over a year following his arrival in this world. His eyes were closed, an expression of somewhat weary calm on his face. Even in this world it seemed the man found ways to replicate his minimalistic, near ascetic attire from the medieval environment he was used to. He was wearing an unbuttoned shirt of white linen and fairly simple dark jeans, his feet bare. And dressed in this fashion the Lykae, who to onlookers would be a well-built man in his thirties, sat meditating with a wooden staff on his knees.

The building behind his back was certainly a strange comfort to possess for the Lykae. After all, more often than not, to them the proper functionality of an estate was defined not so much by it being properly maintained and well-built, but by the presence of Lykae on site in general. The twofold impressions left by his initial arrival here were slowly dying down over the years, though following millennia in his species native world, less than a decade here wasn’t nearly enough to overpower the call of his land.

There was no war here and it almost seemed that unbeknownst to one another all three sides had come to a similar decision – that the unending feud that continued to rage on in their world would not be carried over here. Granted, few could predict what would happen if a vampire met a demon, or if a Lykae crossed paths with either of them. Nor could anyone imagine what would occur should one side discover the hideout of the other. But for the time being, this world was distanced from their conflict and had only the concerns and deeds of its human populace governing its history.

On the other hand, the humans chose a path so much different from either three of their races. Perhaps the vampires or demons would have little trouble mingling with the natives of this world. But Rhaun could see from the plane of the spirits that this realm was troubled in its own way, though not as readily apparent as in the case of a millennia-old war. The spirits here became strange, distant, near spiteful. They had whispered curses upon him and questioned his presence with a strange sort of paranoia that couldn’t come simply from the fact he was a stranger in an alien world. In the concrete jungle strange, orderly spirits worked on maintaining the man-made tapestry, more often than not strangling their kin born of nature in their tight webs of steel and power lines that fed the many devices that humans created for their comfort. And so, even if humans weren’t caught in their war, this world wasn’t without conflict, and Rhaun could see it somewhat better than others.

It was no wonder there was still reason for some concern. Their presence here, the form in which the humans had reshaped their world – it was food for thought that was sometimes hard to swallow. There weren’t many, but some heard of a world without war. Particularly fresh in his mind was a memory of a female Lykae that came to him once. It was not unprecedented – the females had few to turn to in their society and so many would come either to him or to the three priestesses at his disposal. More often the latter than the former, but the distressed female that came to him with a toddler in her arms thought only him fit to assist her.
“Lord Rhaun, my child is sickly and weak. He would not survive if he were to become a warrior. But that world… that other world… Is it true there is no war there? Please, please take my child with you. Let him live there. Let him live! Please!”
She looked upon him with tear-filled eyes. She knew tradition and so did he. The weak had no place among the Lykae and were cut out efficiently by their life itself if not lynched by their brethren. And having listened to her he looked back at the mother with that eerie calm ever present in him.
“Pray to the spirits,” He told her in a tone that was soft, yet firm, “for I cannot help your child…”
From then their conversation went no further. Now he sat on the grass in a world that knew none of their unending war. Even with his eyes closed the images of his kind's plight would still re-emerge before him every now and then.

Finally, his eyes opened. Dark pupils encompassed in a soft amber hue peered forward, still seeming glazed over for now. The spirits around here became “tame” for lack of a better term. The presence of someone who could clearly see them and heed them was comforting to those ethereal beings, and they would frequently flock to Rhaun, some with useful tidbits of information, others merely there to utter their words for sake of being heard and nothing else. The need to filter out some of their murmur was always clear – that which is important to a blade of grass is not always something important to a Lykae. That is why, when he heard a voice not from the spirit-plane, but from that of the living, it was as though he was brought back to a different state.

“… Rhaun… Master… Master Rhaun?” The voice of the speaker gradually grew clearer and eventually caused him to completely return from his meditative state. The overly talkative spirits stepped aside for now, and Rhaun was freed from their ceaseless chatter. His hand grasped his staff, a slightly loose string of carved beads wrapping twice around his wrist rattling gently against its wooden surface as he used it to stand up.
“Speak.” The advisor permitted whilst looking at the servant that approached him over his shoulder. It was one of the young half-lykae serving at the manor. Full-blood members of their kind would be far more difficult to control, so the half-bloods were in service here instead.
“As you requested, I am here to inform you that His Majesty has yet to return…” He reported politely.
“I see… You may go.” Came a short response from Rhaun.

At the end of the short exchange Rhaun gestured the servant to approach and handed him the staff. The simple shaft of wood was taken from him by the servant with nothing short of reverence. Such was the distinction he had in the manor. However, Rhaun had to admit that he would have preferred somewhat more interaction with a living being. The capricious spirits of the human world made his trances a far less relaxing exercise than he would have preferred. Perhaps later he would set out towards the city. The intentional vagueness of Garreth's orders certainly allowed for great freedom of movements. Though whether it was more so for the King himself or for his servants remained open to question... Most likely more so for the King, with his advisor coming in a close second. His Majesty hardly required anyone to look after him of course, but the manor wasn’t in dire need of Rhaun’s watchful eye either. And so, having surrendered his staff, the man headed towards the guest-house, perhaps to trace the last traces of His Majesty’s movements.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Sapphire Parker Character Portrait: Daniel Bowman Character Portrait: A Princess, a Noblewoman, and a Captain Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker Character Portrait: James Dylor
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James Dylor

The front hall was looking a bit scuffed. James lingered for about thirty minutes, waiting to see if anyone else planned to clean it, as it was not part of his job description and he really shouldn't do things like that, especially when he still had to find the rest of the woman's clothes and return them to her. She'd left him with the ultimatum that he was not getting the sheet back until she had her full ensemble back in her closet. James could understand that, but he couldn't fathom where her clothes had gone. She'd claimed that she'd left them where they fell int he King's quarters, but they hadn't been there. At all. Except for the single garment. As if they'd up and disappeared. A rather frustrating notion. Which was why James was so ardent to clean now. As if that would make up for the failure elsewhere, when in fact it would just make someone else's job a bit easier, and his hands a bit rougher for the wear.

After he'd deemed that no one else planned to clean the floor, the boy ran off to collect a bucket and all the other supplies he'd require, then pulled his sleeves up to his elbows, dropped to his knees, and got to work scrubbing the life out of the poor floor. As he worked he noticed that the floor was extremely dirty, past the state he usually allowed the floors he was required to clean in all Garreth's places of residence. Perhaps no one had bothered with it when they'd arrived, or maybe some other Lykae had gotten away with a half-assed job. That didn't bother James much though, but it did worry him that the floors in other part of the manor might be similarly dirtied. He'd have to go check at some point. But for now, this floor was top priority.

Perhaps the reason for his working fervor were not merely because of the embarrassment earlier in the day, though. Perhaps he'd found himself fed up with trying to decipher the letter. It was nearly frustrating to the point of tears. Having the letter in his hands but not able to read it, knowing that his father had spoken to him but not able to understand it. it was embarrassing as well, because he knew at one point he'd been able to read, at one point he'd been a fair reader, but now, now it was all gone. gone when he really needed it. Wonderful. Such a line of reason would have made sense, considering the intensity with which the halfling boy attacked the floors, pulling dirt out that was nearly in the core of the flooring until his hands were mucked by it. He was not very strong, not by any definition of the word, but when he focused on a task, he could make the floors shine. Part of the reason he was the current personal servant to the King. And also partly because the king found him amusing, or so James assumed, judging by the number of tricks His Majesty had pulled on him. The countless tricks. And it seemed they were always getting worse. Just when James was confident that he could handle things, His Majesty had to go and switch everything around or put a new stipulation, or run off and leave a mess nearly too big for him to handle on his own.

That wasn't to say the James didn't love his king. He served The Lykae king with as much loyalty as he could muster. But he didn't always like his sometimes-antagonist. Well, his most-of-the-time-antagonist. Sometimes His Majesty made it very difficult for James to like him, but James was uncomplaining. he was a competitive spirit, and in a sense he was a prideful one. He would not ask for help. He could not. It simply was not the way James worked. It had never even crossed his mind that he could make things even a little bit different with a little bit of asking, the silly boy.

He was mostly done with the floor of the front hall when the door opened. James sprung to his feet, dropping everything. It could be any number of people, but most of those people were more important than him and deserved his deference, which meant that he had to pay attention to them. He watched for a moment, then saw it was Lord Rhaun. He bowed deeply to the Lykae adviser. James respected him, he was a man of presence and wisdom, and one of composure. One could almost say that he looked up to the Lykae, but one would not know such things, because James did so very shyly.




Sabine Marx

Ah, he'd struck another nerve, quick quickly in fact. It was a new record. She issued what probably to her was an insult, but to him was a little more close to home than she might think. As the centuries passed he'd lost interest in indulging carnal knowlage. After the initial rush of lust in his youth, the desire to try everything, to know everything about the woman's body, it became boring. No woman could offer him anything he hadn't already experienced before, and they most likely couldn't do a better job than some other creature he'd already had years before. There was nothing more to it than that drive in the moment, and then it was gone. There were no long term rewards. It was pointless. Sure, if he wanted, he could try and bed as many woman as he could, just for the sake of it, but why? It was merely a game that he'd decided he'd won a long time ago.

"Give or take a few centuries," he said coolly with the faintest shrug of his shoulders. Most likely not the reaction she was expecting. Perhaps she would think it was a joke. Obviously someone couldn't live for a whole millennium, it was unheard of! Foolish humans never could seem to understand things that were beyond them anyway, he'd come to terms with that very early on in his dealings with the creatures. After all, he wouldn't be so affluent in this world if he hadn't done a bit of manipulating and twisted some arms.

The annoyance in her voice when she snapped at him was apparent. Was he treading a fine line, or was there still a bit of space before he made her explode? Most likely the latter. if he remembered, she'd been one to anger quickly. She had a look of disinterest on her face, but her words betrayed her. She did care, very much. Otherwise she'd just shut up and walk away. So long as she continued to be interesting, Sabine would stay, and he was quite sure she knew that. "What gave you that impression?" He retorted, but there was a faint lilt of something less than sarcastic in his tone. Perhaps an ounce of sincerity. Just perhaps. As if it was a ritual, he followed her as she turned and began walking away, anything less would be losing this battle. "What if I wanted to make sure you were alright? The last time I saw you you weren't exactly in top shape, liebchen, standing at your doorstep alone in the middle of the night, fumbling for your keys with my coat draped over you." He recalled that moment vividly, though technically he hadn't been a part of it. Then he realized he'd let something slip that would only do to inflame the little blonde further, if she caught it. He'd told her that she could make her own way home, after a short argument in which he'd insisted that he escort her, but he eventually 'gave up' and followed her home on his own, just to make sure she was okay. Oh well, there was nothing he could do about it now. Maybe she wouldn't notice. Although, if she did, would it really hurt him that much? What could she do, slap him again?

He then contemplated the last part of her snappish counter. He could leave her alone now. It was so lovely to have her permission to do something. Oh, now he'd be just so inclined to do so! Except for one thing. He couldn't. Sabine couldn't put his finger on what it was, but he didn't want to go. He felt that if he did he'd lose something, something more than just his handkerchief and jacket. Perhaps because he didn't like exiting on such a poor note, or perhaps for the same reason their last meeting had stuck so clearly in his mind. Whatever reason that was. He didn't want to leave. Maybe because that would be giving up. He'd gone all this way, all the way from his own world, for what? To walk away? That wasn't him, that had never been him. He would pursue this until he knew just what he wanted from this human girl. This Sapphire Parker, who'd stared back at him with cocky intensity, who had the guts to stand up against a king who had killed more people in his lifetime than she would ever know.

"If I can't have my handkerchief back I need something to show for the trip back here, at least." he said offhandedly, casting a green eyed glance at the fiery blonde. She was such a curiosity. It made him hate her but crave her for the same reasons, she was stubborn and sharp and rude and she was witty and biting and clever. Her word were dually irritatingly impertinent and interesting enough to warrant a response. And that passion. If she could manage it a bit better, make it a touch less headstrong, it would be beautiful. But perhaps her unrestrained emotion was what made her so appealing past her stunning blue eyes and her visually attractive form, which really weren't all that special in the long run of things. There were plenty of pretty people in all places. There were even pretty Lykaes, which showed just how unimportant such a quality was. But pretty person who had quality. That was something.

Even if that something was stubborn and had smacked him across the face not too long ago.




Daniel Bowman

He could feel the princess miss the kiss, he could still feel that tiny gasp that had crossed his skin when her lips parted, but she composed herself admirably. He could feel the tension between himself and her spark though, the delicious desire singing against the inside of his mouth. She purred at him teasingly, countering his refusal of her claim, and his eyelids hooded. Well, they'd see about that, wouldn't they? She would win, ultimately, or at least, she would think she'd won, but he'd not concede until he received what he wanted from her. Not jealous his ass, if she didn't want her attention she would have gotten up and left, her fingers wouldn't be tracing his abdomen, following the grooves of his muscles tauntingly. But it would be a mutual victory, perhaps. He'd gotten what he wanted, she'd worked for him a little bit, thinking that she was merely teasing him, and she'd get what she wanted. In his own opinion he knew her much better than she thought, how else could he keep her coming back for more when she shuffled through men just as fast as he wooed women?

His mind caught a hitch, went blank for a single second as she shifted her hip against him, a movement that he hadn't expected. He blinked slowly as his desire insisted that he do something, his lips parting slightly. She rested back against him, and her eyes found his, which were half closed. He seemingly re-awoke, a smile flitting across his features for a half a second. Yes, she'd have no trouble getting what she wanted now. She smirked at him, and he returned it, sliding his hands from her thighs to her waist, his bottom teeth pressing against the uppers for a moment. A reminder to pace himself. This was still a dangerous game, but for different reasons now. Always for different reasons, it seemed. "I was always a sucker for pretty girls, I suppose." He said, a touch of teasing resting on top of the roguish purr of his voice.

His eyes flicked across her face, he was nearly holding his breath now, through the tension. But he still had a bit of play in him before he'd give up. He shifted ever so slightly so he could move closer to her, returning them to the nose to nose position of not a few moment ago. He blinked slowly again, contemplating her. He could feel his heart urging him onwards, or perhaps trying to push its way out of his chest and get on with the whole deal, since he seemed to be taking his sweet time. "Oh, but how ever will you forgive me, Princess? I've been simply terrible." He was slightly breathless, partly because of her proximity and partly because it cut some of the urgency trapped in his voice. His hands still rested on her waist as slowly tilted his head so his lips could brush hers. Then he pressed forward, all of a sudden, taking her mouth for a moment, almost painfully urgent in his movements, before he took control of himself again and lessened his claim over her mouth so she could reciprocate if she wished. She was the princess after all. And the sovereign queen over her mouth, God save anyone who tried to breach her territory.

Though she knew his body well enough, his physical limits, he wondered how well she could guess his mind. She had her own secrets, he tried not to make vocal assumptions about her, though he often tested her carefully with his little games, just to see what she would do. Like his mischevious little kiss to the corner of her mouth. Oh, she was jealous, not of Eve, but perhaps at the possibility that he wasn't even thinking of her at the moment? She wasn't the absolute priority in his life, just as he knew he wasn't hers, though it was the goal he made for any woman he pursued. Was that hers as well? Most likely, from what he knew of her and her actions. She was clever, mischevious, and that mysterious glint in her eye always spoke of something just beyond the surface, something that he wasn't allowed to know. But did he want to know? It depended on when one asked him. Right now he really didn't care what she was planning, he was too busy with his own plans, but in the quiet moments, sometimes he contemplated that sparkle in her deep eyes. And wondered just what that bode for him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Garreth Vilhei Frost Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker Character Portrait: James Dylor
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Rhaun Dreamspeaker

The front hall welcomed Rhaun with the gleam of clean floors, the tradeoff being a faint chemical odor of the cleaning solution used. Were his senses the same as a human it would’ve been the average smell of a clean luxurious room. But to the Lykae it was an overlapping olfactory mixture of a trail of “artificial” substances and the familiar traces of his kindred wafting through the air. A strange combination that wouldn’t be felt in their home world, but here it has become commonplace. He stepped upon the carpet running across the middle of the room, having spent enough time here to no longer look around. One way or other, if anything was worth noticing here it was an individual who could provide Rhaun with the small token of interaction that he felt an inclination towards. And he was in plain sight, though somewhat startled by the Adviser’s arrival.

James was this boy’s name. A half-breed, like so many servants in the Lykae estates, albeit singled out by his station as personal servant to the Lykae King. Still, it was not likely to be a particularly glorified station. Rhaun approached, the young servant bowing to him deeply. As the old Lykae stepped forth he beckoned the young man to rise from the bow with a hand-motion that held both strength and grace. Man and beast were unified in him in any form and his aura retained a sort of animalistic charm that permeated most of his being. The exchange between them was for now wordless, yet already the animal-like senses of the Adviser gave him a few ideas of the state of the one in front of him. A lingering tension about his gesture and his glance, a hint in his scent speaking of a form of frustration – they were not entirely uncommon things about this particular young man.

Suffice to say, Rhaun made no intrusions upon the conduct between his King and the servants in his employ. Still nothing was there to limit his powers of observation whether fuelled by the supernatural features of his kind or not. And truly James’ life was, in a way, an ordeal. Yet the young man’s hardiness and devotion were something to admire. But to expect James to have no doubts in his heart and mind would be too much to ask of him for now. Even young full-blooded Lykae experienced such feelings. After giving James permission to stand in his presence, liberating him of the subservient posture with his gesture, the Lykae Adviser regarded him with a calm studious glance. Its duration was relatively short though it seemed to stretch to some significant length. To an extent it was to see the servant’s reaction, but it had to be said that, unlike Garreth’s constant trying of his servant’s nerves and patience, Rhaun’s was more a test of will conducted in the same dignified serenity as most of the old Lykae’s actions.

Still James clearly looked tired and tense. Rhaun didn’t maintain the fixation of his gaze on him for too long, his eyelids lowering over his eyes breaking the sort of non-verbal connection that was being formed. Still, perhaps when words were finally spoken it would be enough to make James exhibit some sort of physical reaction or be startled, despite the typically soft tone in which the Lykae uttered his words.

“Seeking refuge in labor…” Rhaun spoke with his eyes still closed, his words forming more of a thoughtful statement, rather than a question or an assumption that would have room for much doubt.

Once more the eyes opened, clearly directed at the young man before him. He examined the reaction, the posture, the way the sound of his breathing changed and the way his scent might have changed in response to his thoughtful words. It’s not that he expected his words to have any overwhelming sort of influence, but taking in the reactions of your partner in conversation in this way wasn’t something unusual for a Lykae. In part his statement was born from the previous things noted about James… And then, in part, it was the fact that it wasn’t even this servant’s job to be cleaning the hall he was on in the first place.

“Hm. I suppose it is not the worst option… Do you find this world…” - He began, but paused, soon choosing to narrow down the area in question - “… This place… Do you find this place comfortable?”

The question that was on Rhaun’s own mind found its way into the strange conversation that was beginning between the two of them. It was too early to judge the degree of success about their exchange, but what harm would there be in wishing to know the opinion of this boy? If one had yet to be formed, then perhaps it would spur the young one to ask himself this question. At times such a thing would guide one towards a path of discovering something important about their identity… Yes, perhaps self-discovery was indeed something many of their kind in the human world had to avoid disregarding. Young and old alike, but mostly those yet to truly get in touch with their dual nature and find the one in-between that would lead to harmony.

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Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker Character Portrait: James Dylor
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James Dylor

James rose at Lord Rhaun's beckon, standing straight and absolutely still. His knees complained for a brief moment, standing still after being down on the floor for so long was a bit of a task. He slowly lifted his head in the subsequent silence to look up at the much taller Lykae's face, three inches shy of a foot above him. He was accustomed to feeling diminutive, however, that did not bother him much. What was so terribly uncomfortable, however, was the way His Lordship was studying him. The soul piercing air under the calm gaze made his stomach jump. He kept himself under control though, or at least, he kept his legs from aiding him in flight. His expression was a lost cause. His face had always been an open book and there was nothing he could do about that. His electric blue eyes widened slightly and his mouth tightened, breath stalling his his chest until his Lordship broke the stare by closing his eyes. Released, James's head fell right back down so he could stare at the floor, the nervous expression not leaving his face.

Lord Rhaun was a deliberate man, which meant that this moment had some purpose, and generally people with purpose who paid attention to James did not have anything good in store for him. Especially with such a searching look. James was a singular creature. He was secretive. He kept to himself. And he didn't like others encroaching in the space between his ears. Even if they were trying to help. James didn't need help. He was fine. He was perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong. Nothing at all. He could do this on his own. It was his job after all, wasn't it? Yeah, and he could do it.

A thoughtful statement from Lord Rhaun made James's throat bob with a discomforted swallow as he tensed further. Though it was nothing more than a remark it felt like an accusation. He wasn't doing anything wrong, was he? He was just doing his job. So what if he picked up some extra tasks, they needed to be done and he was there to do them. He wasn't doing anything wrong. Nothing.

The next question increased his discomfort. Now that was a touchy question. James swallowed again. A vague response should suffice. What was he supposed to say? What did His Lordship want him to say? "It is my home, Lord Rhaun." He said, his voice a little bit softer than he'd intended. He glanced up at Lord Rhaun again, falling into movement as he felt around with his foot for his bucket. His foot bumped against it, sloshing the water a bit, not enough to spill it but enough for it to stain the lip of the container with the dirty water. He bowed deeply again, the movement melting into his next, which was seizing up the bucket and clutching it to his chest as if it could act as a shield against His Lordship and his most uncomfortable questions.

"I must," He stumbled over his words as he tried to think of the proper way to excuse himself, his face flushing, "I-I apologize but, I, um," he paused for a moment to collect himself. "I must depart to prepare His Majesty's chambers for his return. I apologize, My Lord." He bowed again, only just saving the bucket clutched to his chest from spilling it's contents all over the mostly clean floor. He'd not been able to finish, but that was a task for a later time. Now he really, really just had to go. Quickly. He backpedaled, bowing again, and once he was a suitable distance away he turned tail and fled into a door further down the large hall to dump out the contents of the bucket. Once he was safely away, after dumping out the bucket, he paused, resting his callused palms on his knees, and just stood for a moment, face still flaming. What had Lord Rhaun wanted? because James most certainly didn't need anything, and he wasn't finding refuge through work. He was just doing it so it could get done! He was perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong! Nothing at all. Nothing, nothing, nothing!

True to his hasty excuse to escape, James did make his way back up to His Majesty's quarters. He hadn't realized how late it had become, and His Majesty would be home any time, most likely at the most unexpected and inopportune time possible. As the boy went to tidy things up, though nothing had been moved from his earlier cleaning of the place, he paused for a moment to lean against the door, tilting his head up and letting out a loud sigh. When he opened his eyes he spotted something strange. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. He had to be just a bit too tired, because there was a stocking hanging from the chandelier. He furrowed his brow and looked more closely at it, taking a step forward towards the center of the room. It was indeed real. How had it gotten up there? And more importantly, how was James going to rescue it from it's lofty perch before His Majesty got home? Or should he just pretend he hadn't noticed it and hope that His Majesty didn't see it. Unless, of course, His Majesty had put it up there. Realization dawned across James's face as he put together the unhappy woman from that morning and the brassiere under the shelves and the missing clothes. His Majesty must have hidden them, which was something he would most certainly do, just because he was himself.

Well, that was just so wonderful, wasn't it. Oh well. Looked like he'd have a stocking up there for a night before James could fetch a ladder and get it down and restart the hunt for the other lost articles of clothing. He'd replaced the sheets, including the one the woman had take with her, but he really did need it back to keep a full set.

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Character Portrait: Garreth Vilhei Frost Character Portrait: Sydney Parker Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker Character Portrait: James Dylor
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#, as written by Igari


Garreth Vilhei Frost




Tonight was certainly a change of pace for the Lykae King, who, for the rare once in awhile, was actually not sneaking off the premises. It wasn't as if he wouldn't have preferred to--taking the absurdly (albeit hilarious) alternate route had always been in his mindset. However, after the tongue lashing he received from Rhaun regarding his behavior, he wasn't too quick to try anything overly out of bounds. He may not have had much respect for many others but even he had to concede when spoken to by that man. He sighed a little as he pinched his nose. He didn't like someone else knowing what exactly he would be doing to entertain himself but the matter couldn't be helped. This probably also meant sneaking in later wouldn't exactly be an option. Irksome.

In the end, he had decided to go to an art exhibit--opening nights were always the busiest and the display always helped him relax. Surprisingly. The rare few that knew him well enough probably wouldn't be taken aback by this but, even he would admit it, it was easy to write him off as a shallow individual. As he got out of his car, his mind skimmed over the past few weeks--as it had been prone to do as of late. He had not quite been able to shake off that scent or the implications that came with it. Of course, the reason came without saying--parasites were always bad news. And the more he thought of how suffocating that scent was, the more it had begun to bother him. It had been a bit too strong, laid on too thick--but he couldn't think of much of a reason as to why. There was the chance he was over-thinking it, he did have the tendency to sometimes look into things a bit too much. But if they were here, then there was also the chance the sun-lovers had followed. And if that was the case....

Ah, no. He had left to get his mind off of all that nonsense for the night, not dwell on it. This was supposed to be relaxation. Even he would consent--being a King could get a bit exhausting at times. Fortunately, he always knew how to keep himself entertained nicely. As he strode through the double doors, the calming sight of art greeted him. There was faint clatter from the far side of the large entrance hall, a few musicians seemed to be getting set up. Ah, he probably arrived a tad too/ early. He had just been so anxious to get some fresh air, done things more rushed than usual. He was a planner, but lately it seemed as if something was lacking. Pranking James wasn't bringing as much satisfaction as it had and he had been putting less effort into it as the days dragged on. The servant boy had certainly sensed something was wrong but as usual, had kept these matters to himself. It was well known that he did not like to be questioned and the last person that had, well, they wouldn't be talking any time soon. In fact, they wouldn't be talking at all in the foreseeable future.

His eyes only skated over the paintings, nothing was really grabbing his attention here. He would rather not think this was a waste of his time too but as far as he could tell, he was going to get bored pretty fast. No sooner had he thought this that something caught his eye--a flash of black satin. He slid his eyes over towards the motion, but it wasn't the dress that caught his attention. The disinterested thoughts that had filtered through his mind seemed to fade in the several seconds or so it took to process the woman at the far end of the room. Hm, so she was here, but what was she doing carrying a violin case? Unless...

A devious realization came to him and already, his lips were forming into a smirk. He watched her quietly, safely from a distance so that she would not be able to catch sight of him, at least not yet. He decided to turn his gaze partially towards one of the closest paintings, though he kept track of her out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps this night wasn't going to be so futile after all.

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Character Portrait: Garreth Vilhei Frost Character Portrait: Sydney Parker Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker
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Rhaun Dreamspeaker

With the recent events Rhaun’s moments of respite have grown heavier with visions. Despite how calm the sleeping Lykae appeared, even now his eyes behind the closed eyelids shifted rapidly. He was seeing dreams and in them sights from both this world and that from which he and the others came blended, some reflecting the recent unrest, others bearing dark forebodings. And from both of them would emerge reasons for new concerns. The advisor made the slight effort to separate shards of visions in his troubling dreams, so as to pay more attention to both and regard both with due focus. And so from this came the glimpses of a recent conversation with his stubborn King.

What had spurred the conversation in the first place was a number of abnormalities that the advisor’s keen senses detected upon Garreth’s return to the manor. While at first Rhaun was inclined to merely greet his King and return to his meditative practices and overlooking of the Lykae resting place, something was strange. Indeed he caught a strange combination of scents coming from the King, all of them familiar and few being at all welcome in this place. Distinguished first was of course the slightest trace of the scent of their enemies, one of the warring sides. But isolated and identified along with it was another – and that one was the scent of a human. Rhaun had felt it before and this unwelcome duet prompted the advisor to make his move.

When he spoke, the King responded only scarcely. He would give his advisor the attention somewhat begrudgingly, but knowing full well where they stood, he heeded his words nonetheless. And so Rhaun was given a clear opening in which to speak, gauging his King’s every reaction. The way his posture, expression, even minute scents shifted throughout the conversation. Though to an extent such a thing would be strange, largely Rhaun’s words were directed at the second smell, and the main reason for him striking that particular conversation in the first place hinged on it as well.

“We are in a world that is not ours, my King…” He would say in a measured tone. “… We limit our interactions with it. I realize the need to go beyond this manor. Else we would be naught but prisoners here. But now you bring with you the familiar scent few of us would want to sense here…” He paused. Much could be derived from what his senses told him, but Rhaun acknowledged the possibility of misjudging the specifics. Especially concerning the scent he’d originally felt two whole years ago. Yet by some twist of fate it had etched itself into his memory. “Understand…” He continued. “…That my main concern is that it seems you have crossed paths with a certain resident of this world. While her initial emergence may have been an… unfortunate necessity, I strongly advise you not to let her become involved systematically.” The end of his phrase was stressed both by his tone and by his calm glance gaining a near-tangible note of force to it. “We are in a world untouched by our ancient war, my King. Do not make steps that might bring them together to any extent...”

The King, of course, was not pleased by their rather one-sided exchange, yet was forced to accept his advisor’s authority, if only in his presence. Rhaun knew not what the King did as soon as the older Lykae was gone, nor did it matter. He only spoke the truth and while he sensed that his words alone were unlikely to sway the developments, it was, if anything, his responsibility to expose the issue. The last that Garreth heard of his advisor that day was the occasional tapping of the bottom of his staff against the floor of the manor.

With the conversation with his King taking up one half of his visions that night, the other half was instead occupied by images from further beyond. The features he could see were still familiar. They were those of their kind left in their world. He saw the priestesses, providing support and aid in his absence, the Lykae coming to them for advice. He could see more and more worry in the eyes of those coming to them. The priestesses, particularly the oldest, would respond diligently, but their reassurances put less and less faith in the hearts troubled by conflict. The absence of both the King and the Advisor was never a condition that could last for too long. But this time in particular there was danger and it was coming not from outside, but brewing among the Lykae’s very own ranks. A strong hand was needed to guide them. One had to wonder how much longer tradition that demanded respect to the priestesses would keep their kind from showing its more feral side.

Despite the troubling sights in his dream, when Rhaun awakened, it was a calm transition. His eyes opened and but a few breaths later he sat up in his bed. Soon he was already up and alert with no visible effort exerted for a single motion, a single step and not a thing betraying the troubling nature of his visions experienced through the dream. The same remained true even as he exited towards the courtyard and began a round of exercises with his staff. To an onlooker it would appear to be akin to the training of a martial artist, but to Rhaun it was more a dynamic form of meditation. Following an hour or so of the practice he would return to the mansion and there – encounter a servant, whom he asked of the King’s whereabouts.

“The King has yet to return, Master Rhaun.” Came the servant’s response, voice displaying uncertainty and a tang of worry. It has been well over a full day and it was the first time such a thing occurred, at least for the duration of this visit. Rhaun closed his eyes, as though pausing with the realization of the unfolding of events indeed refusing to sway from but a single conversation.

“I shall require transportation to the city. The King’s presence is required…”

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Character Portrait: Garreth Vilhei Frost Character Portrait: Sydney Parker Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker
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Rhaun Dreamspeaker

Humans, to some extent, were quite the ingenious beings. For all their losses in terms of connection with nature they came up with many appliances with rather impressive capabilities. Where they would lead he did not know, but for now one such appliance in the form of a wheeled vehicle was taking him from the Lykae manor to the city. Compliant with the laws of this world, Rhaun sat next to the half-lykae driver charged with his transportation, his seatbelt fastened, constraining as it felt. He would mostly observe the passing scenery through the window, the trees soon changed to a forest of concrete. Some elements of the manmade habitat seemed to challenge the very skies themselves. He could state with certainty that no castle back home would reach this high upwards. But then again, was there much need for it?

The driver and the passenger spoke scarcely, the advisor merely giving a single direction – to be taken to the city to see Garreth. Taking the size of the city in consideration, it was, at first glance, not a particularly easy task. In fact one might wonder where exactly the driver would even go, to which road he’d turn or where he would wait for the Lykae King and his Advisor’s return. Still, Rhaun seemed calm as collected as always and quite certain about the direction they were going, only occasionally asking to take a turn here or there. It was worth noting that he’d opened the window, the air from outside freely coursing through the interior as they advanced.

“Here would be good enough.” He spoke finally and the car came to a halt by the pavement, Rhaun stepping out and looking back to the driver. “You may return without me. We shall find our way back once I find Him.”

Though seeming hesitant to obey, the young half-lykae did not question and nodded, departing as soon as the Lykae advisor closed the door. When he began walking down the pavement, there was determination of sorts in his motion, like there was little question as to where to go. All around him, unbeknownst to the passersby, spirits, scarce yet starved for contact with one able to perceive them, whispered. He mouthed wordless responses to them when fewer eyes were on him, perhaps making the impression of humming the lyrics to a song or something of the sort. His activities were easy enough to dismiss as mundane even as the Lykae was in fact gradually tracking his King. His typically ascetic appearance, albeit this time adding a pair of sandals rather than walking barefoot, contributed to him attracting little attention.

Traces of the Lykae King and the human girl still existed on the streets, weak as they were. They ranged from the whispers of the spirits stirred by the passing of supernatural beings amongst them to an assortment of faint scents. Enough to follow even if they didn’t much shorten the time needed to come across the one he was looking for. It gave him plenty of time for thought, comprehension, and time to take in his surroundings and acknowledge the city around him. He wasn’t a particularly frequent visitor here. But exceptions had to be made in line of his duty to his King and his people.

So now Rhaun was walking the streets of a residential area, following the trace of his liege, gradually getting to where his presence was most recent. He would not barge into a building or go so far as to disturb the peace here. But chances were high, that as soon as Garreth went out into the streets, he would be noticed. And then Rhaun would bring to his attention the need to tend to their true home…