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a part of Prophecy, by shadowseductress.


shadowseductress holds sovereignty over Aurora, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

587 readers have been here.


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Aurora is a part of Prophecy.

14 Characters Here

Bandrial the Wicked. [15] "I shall give this wreched world the queen it deserves"
Kale [12] I will have my revenge..In this life..or the next
Elle Primrose Mystique [12] "Walking this arduous journey is a blessing in disguise."
Damien Vespera [11] "I know they're real. They just have to be. I'll find them one day."
Dawn of the Wood [11] "Behind these eyes, deception lies"
Leonid Sulla [10] "You have the skull of a traitor."
Toran [9] "Can you not feel Her? She is all around us. Come, I must let Her feast upon your screams."
Alice Blackwood [9] "You have no idea who I am."
Aitan Wynn [9] Think what you want now, I might change your mind later though.
Lilith Rawnstein [8] "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for Her."

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Character Portrait: Bandrial the Wicked. Character Portrait: Toran
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#, as written by Savier

The smell was, well, it was never something that could be gotten used to. The smell of rotting carcasses, burning flesh and wood, and finally the foul smell of shit that accompanied the raw amount of dead. Toran could already make out the sounds of the crows cawing eager to tear into the flesh of the dead, ready for the feast to come. Beyond that, the ringing of metal and shouting could still be heard as pockets of resistance remained throughout the maze of streets and alleyways, but the battle was already a fore gone conclusion. The second the walls had fallen; the city had fallen.

Toran stepped over the body of a dead woman, her clothes so shredded they were barely clinging to her pale form anymore. From the way she was sprawled out and the thin line that was drawn across her neck, Toran could hazard a guess as to what had happened to the raven haired woman. She had been used. Repeatedly, by the looks of it, and finally her throat was slit when they grew tired of her. A very common scene.

Pausing, Toran ran his eyes over the buildings and cobbled stone that made up the street, bodies were piled high and merely half an hour ago blood ran in rivers down the street. At one point, the limbs and blood were up to his thighs, and it forced him to wade through it. Now, it was almost unnerving. All those people and yet no sound from them. No movement. Down the street, Toran could see soldiers stabbing the corpses with spears to ensure no one was able to hide among the dead. The city was to be purged.

Toran paused in front of a house, inside was the corpse of yet another woman, but this was different. She was.. beautiful. Even her pasty pale skin or the smell perforating from her body could not mask such beauty. Toran stepped through the broken door and crouched next to the corpse grabbing the dead woman's face and turning it to inspect it. He was mildly surprised to find make-up still clinging to her flesh, she was most likely a consort for a nobleman. He paid her and showered her in luxury, she then spread her legs for him in return. It was a common enough profession for a beautiful woman like her. Toran reached for his dagger when a whimper caught his attention.

Standing slowly, Toran turned on his heel examining the wall behind him till his eyes rested on a closet that was just barely open. Moving towards it, Toran reached out with his black gauntlet and tore the door open earning a scream from a high shrill voice. Instinctively, he reached for his blade, but stopped when he noticed what had produced the sound.

She couldn't have been older then eleven. Her face was streaked in tears, and she was clutching onto her legs. How long had she been there? Toran wasn't sure, but he did know one thing. The dead woman had put her in there to hide her. The young girl saw everything. She had watched as the woman, who was most likely her mother, was beaten and raped over and over again by blood covered men, and she had sat in there. In that closet holding her own mouth to stop herself from screaming.

Toran glanced back at the dead figure that he was about to disfigure moments ago, she had done well. There were terrible men in the world. Men who would have taken the child over the mother... Toran turned back to the girl who was obviously in shock and extended his hand to her, "Come." He commanded his voice sounding far more menacing then he had intended.

The girls eyes changed. It was a look Toran had seen before, acceptance. The girl understood what was going to happen and had accepted the fact that she would not live to see her next birthday. The girl took his hand, her own hand looking dainty compared to his own, and with a tug, he pulled her to a feet, but a voice cut him off.

"Found yourself a tight one, eh?" Toran turned his head to the source and grimaced at the sight. The soldier had not a speck of blood on him, which meant he had hidden behind his fellow soldiers as they did the work. The man had boils on his face and was chewing on something, and Toran had an idea as to what. Krill Moss. A red grass that many men in the army chewed on or drank as it calmed their nerves, but it was addictive. Too much of it over time would warp the mind and make them dependent on it.. Too much Moss at once would kill. The man spit, the red grass was covered in red liquid, and Toran was able to see into the mans mouth as he opened it to clean it with his pinkie. The mans teeth were brown, what few remained of course, and that meant he had been chewing Krill for a long time and in great frequency.

"Mind if I go a round with her after you?" He asked leaning on the wall inspecting his pinkie that had just been in his mouth moments ago, "I mean, if you are even going. They talk about you." He said turning his hand over to examine his nails. Toran had seen many men, and knew this man's mind was not all there any more.

Letting go of the child's hand, Toran moved to the stove and tossed some wood into the metal contraption, and began to rifle through the cabinets looking for something to light it before growing frustrated and drawing his blade. "Khadon." Toran said simply. Without a word, Toran pushed the burning blade into the oven and ignited the dry wood. "That your famous sword then?" The man said, "I hear you use it in place of your prick." If Toran heard, he paid no mind.

Toran sheathed the blade and grabbed a fire poker and began to move the wood around to get the flames nice and high, "Mighty Toran." The man mocked, "Bah, your just a murderer and a fiend, just like old Donal here." He said pointing to himself as he stepped into the room and then he spread his arms out, "I mean, its not like you use it." He said and grabbed the arch where his legs met, "Hell. You have never even done it have you?"

Ignoring the man, Toran pulled out the white hot iron fire poker examining it close to his helm, "Well, I see your busy." The man said moving towards the girl, "So I'll just take her out back. Unless you want to watch?" He said and shot his hand out to grab the girl's long blond hair in his meaty fist. The girl let out a scream of pain, "See? She likes it."

Tor. Please... Help me. Toran's eyes glossed over as he heard a voice from long ago. Shaking his head, he shot his arm out, quick as a viper, and grabbed the mans wrist applying pressure until the girl was able to pull herself free from the grip.

"The fuck.." The man said before his words turned to screams as the hot metal was slapped against the side of his face. The smell of burning flesh overpowered the smell of the long dead woman, and the sound of screaming and struggling filled the air. His skin bubbled and warped from the intense heat. The man's eyes started to roll as he went into shock. Toran yanked the crude weapon away from his face tearing off seared skin and revealing those brown teeth through the hole in his chick. The man reached up to his face before turning to flee, but Toran stepped forward and stuck the fire poker through the mans chest. 'Donal' took two steps before falling face first into the wood floor.

Toran glanced back at the closet to see the girl holding herself once more and even rocking herself this time. With a grunt, Toran leaned down and grabbed the mans leg and pulled him out of the small house to rot in the street; the girl did not need to be in the same room as that man.

He was about to turn and reenter the house before an idea floated through his mind, and he crouched next to the foul corpse and rifled through his pockets until he came upon a soft pouch. Yanking back the strings, Toran peered inside to see the large ball of Krill Moss, and he gave a soft nod. "Be glad." Toran said to the corpse, "For once your miserable life has produced something of value."

Reentering the house, he ignored the child and moved to the stove once more searching the cabinets until he came upon a pot. Toran was glad to find a small bowl of water that was left over and poured it into the pot and set it upon the stove watching as the water started to bubble.

"What is your name?" Toran said still watching the pot, his metallic voice breaking the silence.

"T-" The shaky voice started, "Tira.", "You are going to kill me? Aren't you.." She said softly. Tira already knew the answer, but she had to hear it...

"Yes." Toran confirmed, "You will not leave this house alive."

"Then why don't you do it?" Tira said fresh tears threatening to spill out, "Are you playing with me?"

"I could snap your neck before you had time to scream." Toran said easily. It was not a threat, merely a statement of fact, "I could tear open your stomach and choke you with your own guts." He lifted the pot up with the aid of a rag he had found nearby, "Or." He said pouring the steaming water back into the bowl, "I can give you something to drink."

Tira moved, and Toran fought the urge to look back to see what she was doing until he heard the loud snap of fabric smacking against fabric. With the contents in the bowl, Toran glanced back to see the girl standing next to the now covered form of her mother.

"I know who you are." The girl said softly, "The man called you Toran..."

The man in question took the pouch and let it sit in the water letting it stain the water with its... quality. "You are the butcher of Baron's Field." Tira said softly, "My mother used to tell me." She said her voice breaking, "To go to sleep else the Wicked Queen would set her monster on me."

"Hm." Toran said to show that he was indeed listening as he dipped the pouch in and out of the water turning it redder. He had heard as such before, and knew that in many parts of the kingdom he had become akin to the terror under the bed.

Tira lowered herself against the wall and once again wrapped her arms around her legs. With the tonic made, Toran gripped the bowl and moved over to her holding it out for her to drink. Tira took the bowl from his hand and looked at the deep crimson liquid, "Will it hurt?" She asked him, staring up at him with her large blue eyes that were still puffy from her tears.

"No." Toran said softly, "You will get tired and finally, you fall asleep. It won't hurt at all." Children. Toran knew he should hate them because they had what he never did, but... They were so innocent, and he truly did not wish to harm the child, but he would never disobey Her orders... even if it meant doing this.

Toran turned to leave, content to let the child die in dignity, but a small hand gripped his own once more, "Please don't leave me." Tira whispered, her voice hoarse.

Without a word, Toran lowered himself to the ground next to her. He understood. She hated him for all he had done, but she didn't want to die alone. He watched as she drank the bowl before coughing at the foul taste. They sat there in silence as the minutes ticked by. As screams from the streets occasionally seeped into the house... Her soft voice shook him from his stupor, but he noticed how drowsy she sounded, "What is going to happen to me?"

"You.." Toran started, "Will be with your mother again." He said turning his head away from her because he could not bear to look into those blue eyes any longer. He knew he was supposed to tell her that she would burn for betrayal, but he just couldn't. Despite the fact that he would kill children when She commanded it; it always hurt. Even though he knew it was wrong to lie to her and tell her she would be at Bandrial's side when he knew she was not worthy... he could not help but lie to her. Even as he wove a story of the paradise, of lies, that awaited her; Toran felt like he was doing the right thing.

A sudden pressure on his arm cutting off his tale. Toran looked down to see the mop of messy blond hair and understood. Tira had passed away... Toran gently lowered her next to her mother's covered body. "I am sorry child." He whispered before bringing his pointer and middle finger to the front of his helm where his mouth would be and then to her forehead. "I hope you two find each other again."

Half an Hour Later

Toran looked up at the imposing keep. The banners were already torn down just as the once mighty gate was left smashed open. It seemed he had missed the final battle, but he had a job to do to ensure that every child was left dead. Pushing through the hanging timbers, Toran entered the great hall and was unprepared for the sight.

A large pile of bodies sat in the center of the marble floor. All of them women. All of them stripped naked. All of them dead. Toran ran his gaze around the hall to see numerous soldiers laughing and talking with another until finally his gaze fell upon the high table. His gaze past over two young women who appeared to be in their late teen years, as well as an older woman who held a regal beauty about her and from her silk dress, Toran assumed that was the duchess... At the center of the table in a gaudy wooden throne sat the same fresh faced lieutenant he had seen earlier that day. In front of him sat the severed head of a man, its face too distorted to tell who it was, but Toran had a feeling that was the duke of the city.

Toran understood the situation now. The lieutenant wanted to feel powerful once more. Serving under an old man with the title of 'high general' was something most noblemen's arrogant children didn't want to do, and this boy was most likely a second or third son who had no other choice then to pursue a military career. The display at the center was something he had seen before. Officers would pick one or two girls they had inclination for and then would show them a display. A demonstration of what would happen to them should they disobey. It would make them more... compliant.

"You missed it." The youth said with a smile that obviously spoke volumes of how proud of himself he was.

"I was fighting the real battle on top the walls and in the streets." Toran said easily still standing in the doorway, "But I do not remember seeing you up there."

The smile vanished as the youth glared at him in spite and, even, disgust, "I wouldn't sully my hands with such an act. That is the job for mere soldiers. I am a Varnen." The youth said raising his chin at the mention of his family name.

"Of course." Toran said, "As you say." His eyes narrowed as he spotted the Duchess's hand shoot out and grab hold of a small knife before disappearing back into the sleeve of her dress. His suspicion turned to one of enjoyment as he nodded to the young noble, "Enjoy your spoils. You earned it." With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out. He had to get back to the army and get his horse. He wanted to see Her once more. To hear Her speak to him... He needed it. After having to slay children... Just thinking about the idea of holding Her in his arms was enough to push him on.

It wasn't long afterwards that he caught word of the young boy being stabbed to death before the regal woman had slit her own throat. She preferred death to what would have happened to her, and Toran was pleased that he had decided to not mutilate her face when he saw her in that keep. The Goddess acted in mysterious ways after all.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lilith Rawnstein Character Portrait: Aitan Wynn Character Portrait: Dawn of the Wood Character Portrait: Kale Character Portrait: Damien Vespera Character Portrait: Elle Primrose Mystique
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#, as written by Jynxii

Lilith grinned as she heard her name drip from his lips, the sound as soft as spring rain. “Lilith?” A purr nearly escaped her lips as she felt his rough hands roam over her curves and into her hair, pulling her closer. She took a deep breath of him, eyes fluttering for the moment as her senses were bathed in the ecstasy of campfire smoke and manly musk. When he pulled back, she reluctantly let him hold her at arm's length. How long had it been? She smirked to herself, placing a hand onto her hip as he walked around her. "Enjoying the view?"

“Lilyblossom,” He grinned, using her old pet name. There it was, a moment later-- that irresistible smile of his. The smile that had lured more than one milk made into his arms. As he was making his round, she pulled her hair up to strike a pose, grinning. “Gods, Lil. Who did this to you?” She frowned and dropped her hair, feeling behind her neck at her marking. "It just... showed up today. I dreamed that Mother Vera told me to pursue the comet- so that's why I'm traveling.... you have a mark as well, moon beam," she informed him, pointing to his neck. "It must be a sign from Una. You are to aid me on my journey..." She reached for her bag which she had tossed to the ground prior to tackling him and handed it to him. "I knew Una would bring you back to me," she said with a smile, her blue hues tearing up only slightly. "I have missed you, moon beam. Shall we ride, like old times?"

She couldn't help but grin at the fond memory of them as children, thieving from the locals and always getting away by the skin of their teeth. Of course as she had gotten older, the escapes became much easier-- and the stakes became much higher. She had had to leave her old life behind though, and it wasn't long after Mother Vera took her in that she was forced to say goodbye to her childhood friend. The memory of their last day together was imprinted into her. It had been the second saddest day of her life; losing her only friend, the first being the day she lost her family to the terrible fire.

Forcing herself back to reality she pretended to laugh and turned away from him, quickly wiping away the tears that threatened to fall. Just like that, though, she was over it and feeling much better. "Let me help you get packed, and then we can get moving. I want to get as far as I can before night falls. Bandrial's men are everywhere and I don't fancy trying to fight a demon in the dark." With that, she began to help him pack up all of this belongings- the tent, and everything else. When it was all in a neat pile of bags she nodded to him. "Best look away," she cautioned, recalling how pissy he was when she shifted without warning. After waiting a beat for him to cover his eyes, or turn around, she shifted back into the form of the black mare.


She turned her massive black head to look at him and let out a gentle whinnie. Let's get moving. Lilith walked over to him and laid on the ground, allowing him access to her back to put the bags and for him to climb up and ride. It'd be faster, and look a lot less strange if they came across anyone. She wasn't worried about his bareback riding skills- for they had grown up together, and she was confident that he would remember everything if he had forgotten. After he had gotten settled, Lilith slowly rose up from the ground. The weight was barely anything to her, and she mentally smiled-- it was nice to be so strong, and fast.

With a soft huff, she set off in the direction her heart was telling her to go. She trusted Una to lead her wherever she needed to go. How long they had traveled- she didn't know, but at some point she began to hear voices. “I am going to Fairhaven, they need our help.” Lilith slowed, coming from the West side of the group. It appeared to be a group of four. A man with a sword, a woman -the one speaking- who removed her hood, a raven haired male from Wen Lief -it seemed from his clothing of choice-, and another woman in a cloak though this one much more fair skinned. Lilith huffed a little, starting to turn away from the group; this was the last thing she need- a group of lost wanderers in the forest tagging along and causing drama. She started to turn away, to head around them in an arc and avoid conversation all together, when the marking on her neck began to burn again, causing her body to tense.

Seven hells! Alright, alright she hissed in her mind, walking forward and into the view of the group. She'd leave the talking to Aitan for now- partially because she was a horse, but mostly because she wanted nothing to do with the ragtag group.


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Character Portrait: Leonid Sulla
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As soon as Leonid had left the meeting with Bandrial he went back to his headquarters and summoned his men. After an hour or so they had all gathered in the largest room in the building, though it was still cramped. It was unusual for so many members of his secret police to be in one place and he hadn’t envisioned the need for it when he had ordered the building of his headquarters. For one it made it too easy for the rebellious elements to hurt them. Right now you could throw a brick while blindfolded and still hit someone. Maybe he should have met with them in the palace, though it would have been a serious breach of decorum. Still, maybe it would have been warranted. After all today was a strange day, different from any other before. Today they would be playing a part in a bigger play. Leonid gave his men a scrutinizing look.

“May I have your attention please?” he spoke softly as he tapped his stick on the floor. The room immediately became quiet. Leonid had always kept a tight rein on his men and no one wanted to provoke him. He began to see traitors everywhere when provoked.

“Thank you. Today quite some babies are going to be born. While that is something that happens every day and worth celebrating, today is different. We are to make sure the babies don’t live past today. People are not going to like that, but most will yield their children, or so I hope. On top of that I myself am going to award a bounty, anyone who reports a hidden birth will receive a nice little sum of money. That combined with patriotism should uncover most births but a couple will slip through. Unless you all do your job. There will be plenty of traitorous elements and they will try to hide a birth. It is up to us find them and make sure no baby escapes the purge. That’s going to be our only focus today. I want you all to lie, deceive, torture, bribe and eavesdrop. In short anything that can help us track down these children. Fail and the consequences shall be most grave for me. And what is grave for me, is ten times as grave for the rest of you. Do I make myself clear?” he hissed, his eyes cold now. Everyone saluted, some a bit slower than others. He could see a few hesitating glances but everyone knew better than to protest.

“Wonderful,” he mumbled, the small smile on his face again, “now, let’s start rooting out those traitors. And before I forget, bring me as many of their skulls as possible. I’d like to study them afterwards. Of course you will be compensated for every baby skull,” he could see the doubts some men had disappear quickly at the thought of more gold.

“Excuse me sir,” one of his lieutenants raised a hand gingerly.

“Yes?” Leonid’s eyes focused on the man but to his credit he only wavered slightly.

“How do we distinguish the newly born from babies that have been born in the last couple of weeks?”

“You could use common sense or you could do what I intend to do, take no chances. If there is even the slightest possibility that the baby was born on the wrong day, you kill him.”

“Yes sir,” the man nodded, seemingly sickened by the idea of such unnecessary bloodshed. Leonid dismissed the thought. If those deaths were the price he’d had to pay to keep his post, so be it. He’d kill all the children in the world if necessary.

Leonid surveyed the burning pyres that lit the night with pleasure. It gave him something to look at as he gave orders to his lieutenants. Alice’s mindlink potion had been a wonderful thing. Leonid had never liked moving that much even before his leg had gotten crushed. Now he could just sit here and look at the burning corpses while giving orders to his men throughout the land. He had heard rumours of quite serious resistance in some places, but his men seemed to be capable of handling it. And he was moderately comfortable. Granted, the smell of burning flesh wasn’t too pleasant, but he had a perfumed handkerchief for it. It was important he was seen here. He needed to remind people he was still around, hunting traitors.
A lieutenant stopped in front of him and handed him a small report. He flicked through the pages and grinned. There had been plenty of hidden births, but most had been clumsy. Cleary they had underestimated Bandrial. And him.

A shriek pierced his thoughts. Two soldiers dragged a woman from a building and a third was holding a baby. He rose from the chair and walked towards them. Time for some action. The woman was clearly hysteric and kept screeching. Leonid sighed and drew one of his hidden daggers. As the woman tried to attack one of the guards he stopped behind her and slipped his dagger between her shoulders. She let out a surprised wail and then dropped to the ground. The guards immediately let go, as if stung. Leonid calmly cleaned his dagger on the woman’s clothes and then turned towards the baby.
“Kill him,” he ordered calmly. You could see the guards hesitate, “well?”
“Sir, it looks like the child’s already a couple of months old. I don’t think we need to kill him. I have a baby at home as well; he was born a couple of months ago and looks about the same age as this one,” one of the guards stuttered.
“I see,” he walked up to the baby and placed his dagger against the kid’s throat, “I understand your concerns soldier but I am not taking any chances,” and he slit the throat, “now be a good man and throw it on the pyre, alright?”
“Yes sir,” the soldier saluted and hurried off, quickly followed by his companions.

Suddenly Leonid felt sick. Cutting the kid’s throat had been more distressing than he had envisioned. Time to take his leave. He had been visible enough for today. The people had hopefully learned their lessons. Now he could focus on more pleasant exploits. He slowly paced towards the headquarters and entered his study. Before him a large amount of skulls were arrayed and no doubt more would be brought in soon.
Leonid studied the heap of skulls before him with a smug look and picked one particularly promising one up. He turned it around a couple of times and then started to measure it. After a short time he tossed it aside with a disgusted sigh. Quickly a second pile began to accumulate as Leonid kept tossing skulls aside, his measurements becoming more desperate as time went by. All these skulls were so ordinary! Surely he should have stumbled across one special case by now? Then a terrible thought dawned on him. He got up from his chair, opened the door and poked his head through.

“You!” he snapped at a guard, “bring me a transcript from the prophecy! Now!”

The guard saluted, turned and then paused:
“Which prophecy sir?” Leonid sighed and a dagger slip from his sleeve. With a quick gesture he hurled it at the man’s neck. He limbed towards the gurgling man, withdrew the knife and turned to the second guard.

“Would you care to take a guess? Which prophecy would I want given recent events?” he asked acidly.
“The prophecy concerning the seven of the light?” the guard stuttered, his hands shaking heavily.

“That one. Go get it and then send someone to clean this up,” he gestured at the still dying guard, “there’s no room for fools in my employment.”

“Actually sir the empress employs us,” the man started but quickly became silent when he saw Leonid glare. He just saluted and ran off. With an irritated frown Leonid went back into his room and picked up another small skull. It seemed to be mocking it with its dead grin. He didn’t know why yet, but he feared they might have missed something. 


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lilith Rawnstein Character Portrait: Aitan Wynn Character Portrait: Dawn of the Wood Character Portrait: Kale Character Portrait: Damien Vespera Character Portrait: Elle Primrose Mystique
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Both figures came closer to him as the sky started thundering and dark clouds shadowed the road. The swordsman upon closer inspection was soiled with blood and held a hand with the mark high. Damien was a bit taken back by this gesture, wondering what the swordsman intended, but more importantly, questioning his openness in sharing the mark. He looked down at his notes and noted to himself to later add that he had indeed found the swordsman as foretold. "You're asking the wrong place for assistance. You have no idea what is going on in this town do you.." the golden blonde man said confused and a bit harsh sounding to Damien.

”As a matter of fact—“ Damien thought, ”I don’t even know what this town is…”
The cloaked woman figure whom the blonde swordsman looked at seemed a bit familiar to Damien, but he couldn’t put his mind to it. After looking back towards him, the man continued, "She does..I can see it..They are killing babies in this town..Bandrials soldiers are killing every single baby they find..and anyone who tries to stop them..we need to hide"
Damien gasped in horror. He has heard of tales concerning Bandrial’s evil deeds but he couldn’t believe she would be so low as killing innocent babies who had done no wrong towards her. He started to shiver a bit, not used to the lower temperature that came with the raindrops that started falling. Water felt a bit warmer back at his home in Sageburrow desert, unless it was the heat he was focusing more of. The water that fell along with the colder climate made Damien hold himself a bit to get warmer. He agreed with the swordsman’s decision to hide as this place didn’t seem safe at all and it would be better to get to know the two of them somewhere else that no one can hear them from.

Just as he was about to speak in agreement, a soldier had come across their path and threatened the girl. She stepped in front of Damien and the swordsman, casting some sort of magic that shielded the three of them.
Damien looked in awe at the shield and finally realized why the girl seemed familiar to him. ”She’s a healer. I’ve seen them enter the desert at times to help the wounded and the sick. They’ve kept our location hidden from Bandrial and we have formed an alliance with them. Could she be…the healer foretold in the prophecy?”Damien was thinking so much he wasn’t paying attention to the screams of the healer telling them to run away or more threats from the soldier. Only when they started screaming “AAAAAAaaaahhhh!!” and an arrow shot the soldier out of nowhere did Damien come back to reality.

The woman who had shot it came out from her hiding spot, and Damien couldn’t help but widen his eyes in utter shock at her appearance. She was muddy in the face, wore animal furs, and even smelled like some sort of animal as well. Damien wondered what happened to the poor girl or whether this was a customary special type of appearance for special occasions like a kill. He was getting more nervous as more new things came coming to him and revealing themselves, but at the same time he couldn’t help but have so many questions for them wanting to discover what has been going on in this part of Aurora. She seemed to be gathering the arrow that she had shot and mentioned something about going to a place called “Fairhaven” saying that they needed their help. When she uncovered her hood, she revealed the tangled mess her hair was and the mark upon her shoulder, the same as Damien’s and the swordsman’s. Damien could see a black mare and another young man riding towards them and wondered just how much attention they seemed to attract?

Deciding to finally speak Damien said, “Uh…I don’t know happenings around here being a civilian of Wen Lief and I especially don’t know what that Fairhaven is… However, seeing as there have been recent um casualties, people of the mark, and the impending danger of being attacked again as earlier, shouldn’t we get to somewhere safe? Oh um…are you all of the mark…as I am..?”Damien then slowly removed his black gloves and unwrapped the violet cloth around his right arm and showed them the mark. He wondered if the others had the same mark and introduced himself, “I’m Damien Vespera of the Wen Lief Mages. Who are you all? Oh…we should probably move as we talk…right?”Damien asked the others. He was still unsure of himself being an outcast amongst the others.


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Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Kale
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#, as written by Corvan
Kale had drawn his sword when he heard the horsemen coming. Hearing the woman telling him to run, kale only stood his ground. "I will not run!" he shouted. But before he could do a thing a arrow had come from nowhere and took the man down as easy as kale could cut the man down. Kale loosened up his stance his sword hanging limply at his side, watching the man fall from the horse gurgling his last bit of life away. "One more dead in the whore's army.."Kale spit in the dead man's direction. When he heard someone move through the brush on instinct he had sword come up in front of him ready to strike down the next soldier, instead he saw a mass of dirty furs and the smell of a animal. The smell Kale was use to and for a time he looked the same way when he was growing up with the old man, living out in the woods.

When the hood was pulled down Kale could see the features of a woman but the hair was so massed and caked in mud, it was hard to tell until she spoke. Hearing her voice crack as if she had not used it in years. "Fairhaven...this is happening in fairhaven as well.."kale took in a deep breath and sighed some using the crook of his arm to clean the blood from his sword. " I am going as well then.."Kale looked at the mark on his hand "the old man spoke of a prophecy..said others would be branded..including me, but I never believed him.."Looking at Damien and seeing that he bore the mark as well as this woman of the wood. He would make a fair assumption that the cleric woman bore the mark as well. Sheathing his sword Kale walked to Elle and taking her in a firm but gentle grip and helped her up to her feet. "Can you walk?" kale asked her and looked at Damien. "You have a lot to catch up on outsider.." Kale looked to the woodswoman and nodded to her for her to hopefully lead the way. "Talk and run..if we are to get there in time" kale said hopefully the others would come along with him and the woodswoman.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lilith Rawnstein Character Portrait: Aitan Wynn Character Portrait: Dawn of the Wood Character Portrait: Kale Character Portrait: Damien Vespera Character Portrait: Elle Primrose Mystique
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Energy on the brink of being totally drained, Elle was almost tearing apart, physically and mentally. The force-field she kept up for so long was rapidly waning, she not knowing how long she was going to last. It seemed that both young men were going to stand their ground and stand by Elle. Were they showing a little bit of kindness towards her? Elle couldn't correctly answer knowing she hadn't been shown that type of emotion for so long, thinking of it as wishful thinking. But right now was not the time to think of such foolish thoughts! All three were in danger and Elle had to protect them. "I will not run!", the golden blonde man shouted, continuing to stand his ground.

Out of nowhere, an arrow zoomed past everyone's path, instantly shooting the wild aggressive and vile solider on horse, knocking him off the horse and killing him. He fell off immediately, laying on the ground with bloody gurgling last breath, "One more dead in the whore's army..", the young man vehemently stated. Elle readily didn't react to such a disturbance, too focused with keeping her guard up and protecting the others. Who shot the arrow that went straight piercing the soldier's neck? At first, no one knew but sure enough the person who did stepped out of the earthen shadows, displaying themselves for all to see, the person jumping down from some large tree right into their path.

Right away, the person looked muddy and grimy, smelling of forest and animal; a smell that Elle would never forget. If Elle had her senses and bearing she would've automatically felt sorry for them, wanting to soothe and ease their plight and suffering. The person not announcing themselves readily just walked stealthily to the now fallen deceased solider, breaking the arrow from the man's neck, collecting the arrow as if being frugal and saving it for another foe to shoot dead next time. Then the person looked back to them, "I am going to Fairhaven...", a female voice cracked finally. This person appeared to be silent most of the time, not using their voice often, "They need our help...".

Fairhaven needed their help too? It couldn't be surprising knowing that everything was falling apart around them, absolute chaos and madness filtering the air. The person finally pulled back their hood, revealing a muddied and pale female who looked very wary of being around them or anyone else for that matter. Her dirty blond hair was matted with dirt and grime just like the rest of her tattered and worn to death furred apparel. But Elle wasn't really bothered with that, immediately spotting the comet-mark on the young woman's shoulder.... The foretold archer who also was a hero, she being the one! "Fairhaven...this is happening in fairhaven as well..", the golden blonde man sighed with much wearied stress as he cleaned his bloody sword by using the crock of his underarm, "I am going as well then..". Maybe it was best they all went there....

By now, Elle was stumbling to the ground, her knees desperately holding up her exhausted body. Her power took a toll on her causing her not to respond much to her surroundings or to others. She truly needed rest! "They need our help.", the young woman repeated, defeat lacing her every word. Elle wanted to comfort her but she couldn't, exhaustion feigned body not allowing her to do so. "The old man spoke of a prophecy..said others would be branded..including me, but I never believed him..", the man added, sheathing his sword....

Immediately hooves from a horse could be sound from the near distance. Elle rose her head in slight initial panic, caring not to see another Bandrial solider. Instead, a young man, who looked roguish, rode a raven black mare closer to the group from the west side of them. The horse huffed with displeasure seeming to not like being around other humans but the one on it's back. How odd and peculiar, Elle sensing something curiously off about the horse, almost liking to mannerisms and behaviors of a human. The horse was about to turn it's head, steering clear of the others, but as quick as it did that, it quickly turned it's head back to them, standing majestically in it's spot, it looking somewhat tensed. In that short amount of time the mare did that, Elle noticed a mark on it's back that looked eerily familiar to the rest of the others who were branded the same by the comet.

Why did this mare have a mark just like them? Elle began to think that she was just hallucinating, having seen quite a few markings already. "Uh…I don’t know happenings around here being a civilian of Wen Lief and I especially don’t know what that Fairhaven is… However, seeing as there have been recent um casualties, people of the mark, and the impending danger of being attacked again as earlier, shouldn’t we get to somewhere safe? Oh um…are you all of the mark…as I am..?", the raven haired man finally spoke up again with much questioning, trying to find out if everyone was marked by the comet as well. Elle slowly turned her head into his direction, "Wen Lief... Allies of Clerics...", out of breath and highly exhausted was all she could muster in reply to him.

Removing his black gloves and unwrapping his violet cloth around his right arm, his comet-mark was revealed for all to see.... This had to be the dark mage who was chosen as a hero by the comet! "I’m Damien Vespera of the Wen Lief Mages. Who are you all? Oh…we should probably move as we talk…right?", he introduced himself and asked everyone and then finally suggested, seeming to look out for everyone's safety while being a little unsure of himself. The golden blonde man walked by Elle's kneeling side taking her by a firm gentle grip, helping her somewhat to her feet, "Can you walk?", he asked earnestly. Elle couldn't shake her head yes or answer him, just firmly griping his muscular arm, shakily trying to keep from falling over again.

"You have a lot to catch up on outsider..", he said to Damien, looking to him and then to the woodswoman, nodding to her in a gesture to lead the way, "Talk and run..if we are to get there in time.". How ironic of him to say, knowing that was what Elle did for the last hour or two but she agreed with them, their surroundings not safe to loiter about carelessly. Elle couldn't hold herself anymore, using the golden blonde man's arm for support. So much happened in such a short amount of time for Elle and she wasn't sure if she could deal with another "surprise" if it should come their way....



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Character Portrait: Bandrial the Wicked. Character Portrait: Leonid Sulla Character Portrait: Giddeon Rosenheart
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The night had come slowly and had brought dread into Bandrial's corrupted heart. She had a silk robe draped carefully over her pale, smooth body as she stood on her balcony and awaited the destined comet to break through the sky.

It was likely to not even show, part of her was certain that the old moron of a prophet had only said those things to mess with her head. A few well placed rhymes and a mystical voice were enough to trick others into thinking he was a real prophet, but not her.

As if to mock her the rock broke through the atmosphere and set the sky on fire. There were children being born that were supposed to take her throne from her. She chided herself for letting the doubt set in. There was no chance that they would ever make it here, that they would even existed. Any fool with a star map could predict a comet. He used it to trick her. To scare her.

“I figured I would find you here.” A voice called from behind her. Bandrial pushed her fears away and smirked. Her toy had come back, he always came back to her. She turned to look at him. His armor was else where leaving his leather clad body in front of her. His attire clung to his perfect body, a lesser woman would have buckled before him. His dazzling smile withering their hearts into nothingness.

“I suppose it would be dumb of you to be anywhere else, of course you would be here. It only makes sense to watch what is supposed to be your doom.” The Queen's look then turned very sour.

“Not that it would ever happen your lovely-ness,” the knight cooed. “A couple of infants are no problem to someone as delicious as you.” She smiled again and sat on her bed, her almost naked form before him.

“I was wondering when I would see you again Giddeon.” her voice was like silk, soft and slick, drawing him closer.“I take it you finished the task that I have given you?”

“Yes, I was finally able to track down the girl's father. He is in the dungeon with the others.” He was coming closer now, on his knees before her. “You must be anxious tonight,” he said with certainty.

“Let us not talk of something so trifle,” she cooed.

“Would you like me to help you take your mind off things?” he asked softly. She smiled, everything about her was sensual, her pale form peeking from behind the silk, her crimson lips, he needed no further invitation. He kissed her and fell into her sheets.

The queen rose from her bed the next morning, Giddeon still sleeping soundly beside her. She stretched and left the bed unashamed. Her new hand maid heard her awaken and entered the room silently, as not to wake the sleeping man. She helped the Sorceress dress and left without incident. She was in a terribly good mood but there was much to be done.

Giddeon finally rose from the bed and rubbed his eyes. He frowned playfully noticing that Bandrial was already dressed.

“A shame to cover such a magnificent body,” he teased her.

“Well I always feel the need to bathe after being with a scoundrel like yourself,” she chided. “Get dressed, we have things to attend to this morning.” He didn't hesitate. Despite the fact that he could get away with more with her than any one else, he knew better than to avoid a direct order. He was putting on his boots with there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” the queen commanded. A young woman made herself seen.

“Master Leonid requests your presence your highness. He says it was urgent.” Bandrial flitted her hand to allow for the servant to leave, maybe he had some information for her about today's slaughter.

“Tell him I will receive him in the throne room,” with that she looked to her knight and stuck out her arm for him to lead her to her throne. It was where she belonged after all and nothing was going to keep her from it.


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Character Portrait: Bandrial the Wicked. Character Portrait: Leonid Sulla
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It was with shaking hands that Leonid put the scroll down. He had reread the passage countless times before but this was the first time he had noticed there were two ways one could interpret the sentence. Before he had just assumed his queen had been correct, as usual. It seemed that had been a grave error. It seemed the second interpretation was the right one. Yesterday was the day the heroes had been marked, but not necessarily the day of their birth. Their butchering the previous day had been absolutely pointless. Not only was that a shame for the children, it had also been a terrible waste of manpower and increased the ever growing unrest.

The worst consequence of this error would be Bandrial’s reaction though. Leonid realized all too well that his queen would be most displeased should she hear this truth. He considered keeping it a secret, but quickly dismissed the notion. It would only make her angrier when she would find out and Leonid didn’t doubt she’d find out eventually. These heroes would probably be making a lot of noise really soon and Bandrial should be able to put one and one together.

Besides, it was in his best interests as well to put an end to these heroes as soon as possible. He rose from his chair, cast a disgusted look at the heap of baby skulls in the corner and slowly started to limp towards the throne room. With his free hand he took hold of the poison vial in his jacket. Should Bandrial be most wroth he could always down the poison for a quick and painless death. Apparently his queen had incinerated a serving girl yesterday and Leonid disliked the notion of being burned alive greatly. Still he hoped Bandrial wouldn’t just burn the messenger. Surely it hadn’t been his fault or at least not his fault alone, he could still be useful if she wanted to rectify their error.

He paused in front of the throne room and took a deep breath before entering. When he entered he slowly knelt and tried to avert his eyes.
“My queen, I…I must bring you grave news,” he swallowed, “after studying the skulls for some time I didn’t find any specialones, nothing that could hint at any of them belonging to a chosen one. Moreover, the skulls didn't even seem to hint at the fact that certain babies had been elevated above the others. It was then that I decided to reread the prophecy and I’ve come to the unfortunate conclusion that we have misinterpreted it until now. While yesterday was the day the heroes were marked, it didn’t specifically say yesterday was the day they’d be born,” he concluded, doing his best to remain calm. Despite his attempts his face gleamed with sweat, “so I fear we have spent yesterday killing the wrong suspects. It is likely that the seven heroes are all still alive and trying to fulfil this prophecy…” he left the rest unsaid, no longer fully trusting his voice. His one hand closed even tighter around the vial as he continued to avoid making eye contact. Oh god, he did not want to die...


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lilith Rawnstein Character Portrait: Aitan Wynn Character Portrait: Dawn of the Wood Character Portrait: Kale Character Portrait: Damien Vespera Character Portrait: Elle Primrose Mystique
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Dawn looked at the horse and it's rider as they approached the group. They were silent, but to close for her liking. She rose her bow to defend herself.

”No, they are marked like you. You will need them all.” She slowly lowered her bow and followed the other three that were on their way to Fairhaven. She rolled her eyes as they talked. They were too slow for her liking, she could sprint across the treetops and be there in a third of the time.

Finally frustrated, she climbed up a tree with expert speed and soon was above the others. She was like a primate, grabbing branches with terrifying accuracy and flinging herself to the next tree. Soon she was a good distance from the others.

Dawn paused as she neared the edge of the forest. It had been at least four years since she had even been this close to the border of the Mallowpine. Leaving the safety of the trees was terrifying to her, what if Bandrial's men in town recognized her, what if they killed her family? She still had no clue if they were even still alive.

The others were getting closer now. She took a long breath and tightened her grip on her bow. She had to do this. She was chosen, she had a greater purpose than hiding in the Mallowpine for the rest of her life.

”From here you are on your own little one, you are chosen, you are powerful, you will do great things.”

Another deep breath, and then slowly she stepped from the treeline. The sun was almost blinding as she left the safety of the canopies.

“I have never left the forest before.” She said slowly, she was still getting used to having to communicate. She had indeed been out of the forest before, when she was young, when she had a family, she didn't trust them enough for all of that. She took a moment to regain her composure and took the small job into the town.

The buildings were ablaze, adult corpses lined the streets clutching their little ones. It was a massacre. She felt a rage build up inside her. Bandrial's forces, they had ripped apart enough families for a life time.

“Hey!” She screamed at a nearby soldier, her voice cracking. He turned to look at her, helmet off. He was a smug bastard. She almost smiled as she let her arrow fly straight into his throat. He fell dead. She felt no remorse, no pitty. She went further into the town, inflicting her own personal justice.


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#, as written by Corvan
Kale made sure he had a good grip on Elle the Cleric woman. Looking down at the woman. "my name is kale"he said to her and lifted her up so he was actually holding her up off of the ground. "we will move faster if I just carry you" he said to her and made sure that she was comfortable. looking to Damien "Lets go outsider..the woodswoman already went on keep up" With that Kale turned and making sure Elle was somewhat comfortable Kale held her firmly and took off running as fast as he could.

As he ran Kale's mind was going all over the place, only just last night he was finishing a job and going to get his new armor when he is branded by some comet and witnesses the mass killing of ever infant and or toddler in the city..and now it is going on in fairhaven, for all Kale could know, it is happening in every city in the Northedge Fields. Kale is by no means a saint but this is sadistic and he knew who had ordered the soldiers to do it. The mere thought of the woman, made his rage boil like a raging fire.

As Kale ran, he looked to Elle for a second to get her attention "What do you know of this prophecy..i only heard what was told to people..I know nothing of it besides that."Kale said to her. kale looked around and did not see the horse or the person riding the horse. He figured they were already ahead and hoped they were as well marked. Kale looked back to make sure Damien was keeping up and gave as much time as he could for Elle to explain whatever she knew before they arrived. When they had Arrived Kale heard the scream and then saw a soldier fall with a arrow in his neck. "That woodswoman is fast.."Kale saw her come out of the tree line and then charged into the town killing as she went. "impressive.." Kale set Elle down hardly out of breath and reached behind him pulling the six foot steel sword from its leather straps. " Can you move on your own now?..If so lets go..Don't step in front of me next to me..or you will get cut in half on accident."Kale said with the tone of understanding.

Without a further word kale charged into the city and with a single swing of great sword, almost cut through the entire body of a unsuspecting soldier. With a wet tearing sound, kale ripped the sword from the dying man and using its momentum cut the blade into another man. "I am Kale!! Turn and face me!!" Kale cried out and went charging into the masses swinging left and right. With each stroke a soldier fell, his anger and rage turning him into a killing machine.


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Character Portrait: Agmund the Bard
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It was a typical day at the Wet Dog Tavern.
Agmund, the traveling bard from the North, looked about anxiously at the groups of the rugged, bearded men and thugs passing drinks. The tavern was rowdy and abuzz with gossip and news from the four corners of Aurora.
"Ye look like someone looking for a good beating." A drunken aggressive man said as he poked Agmund on the ribs. "I was actually itching to hurt some whoreson like you."
Agmund smiled and placed his hand on the man's shoulders. "Anger is never without reason, but seldom with a good one my man." He said gingerly. "I shall play a song for you and the folks of this establishment. And you shall hear that peace is a journey of a thousand miles that must be taken one step at a time."
"Ahem, this is one of my favorite tunes, written in commemoration of Petrucius of Ruvar, the lord who threw his life at injustice."
Agmund began to strum a sweet tune on his lute.
The initial menacing glances towards Agmund softened as he played, and to his amazement, the people were clapping with a matching rhythm and humming to his song!


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Character Portrait: Lilith Rawnstein Character Portrait: Aitan Wynn Character Portrait: Dawn of the Wood Character Portrait: Kale Character Portrait: Elle Primrose Mystique
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#, as written by Modesty

”…you have a mark as well, moon beam…”

His hand instinctively rose, rubbing the place where Lilith’s eyes had settled. While he couldn’t see his reflection, Aidan could imagine the mark as if it were mirrored to the naked woman standing before him. His brow furrowed, trying to remember the previous nights events. An ache reminded him that drink had created a haze, and even if he’d drunkenly gotten an engraving in his skin there was no hope in remembering it. Still, he could picture himself with the tribal rune and a slow smile widened.


The excitement of his new rebel look, that match the smell of day old ale and dirt mixed with sweat, was short lived. His distasted for the Goddess that Lilith spoke of was hardly disguised. Flashes of the dream replayed in his mind, his eyes rolling and head dropping back as he sighed heavily. It was foolish to think that the fine, bare body being delivered to him was due to an abandonment of the beliefs that had swept her away from him. Of course the Gods had their hands in his awesome new tattoo and the reappearance of his favourite woman.

“Fucking Gods, can’t stop messing with my shit.” He mumbled, barely audible as he slung her bag over his shoulder and shielded his eyes from the awful transformation. Even the fond memories of their rides couldn’t brighten his now soured mood. Still, he had done more depraved things for lesser women. When Lilith said ride her… well, who was he to let her down?

His items were few and far; an empty bottle and a bag of coin was all he’d remembered to grab. What little clothes he had to his name were laying dormant in the Inn room he had rented for the week. It was without a second look that he swung his leg over the black mare and wrapped the long glossy mane around his fingers.

“Giddey up, woman.” He purred into her ear.

His body rose from the flattened position that let them ride with more speed as show slowed. In their not-to-distant sights was a group of four, gathered at the side of the road. Aitan could hear Lilith’s struggle. Like her, he wanted nothing to do with them. These were dangerous roads and there was no telling who or what they were. His marking did not burn, whether from still being a tad drunk or years of practice blocking out Odin’s voice he didn’t know, but he was grateful. Still, Lilith advanced.

“Hey.” He said, “Who says I want to do the talking? What if your ‘Una’ is just playing a dirty trick on you. Let’s ride, babe… see where the wind takes us… I bet we could find a few things to occupy our time.”

He was trying to reason to a horse, or so it would seem to the four as he approached. Green eyes stared warily as a hooded woman dropped her notched arrow and somewhere someone thought that they were all the same. Chosen. The word flitted through his mind like a whisper and he couldn’t help but laugh. Desperate times made people think desperate things.

“Babies dying, it’s all sad and tragic but it’s none of your business. Save yourself, that’s what I always say.” He murmured out loud, interjecting himself into the strangers conversation. Aidan had never been good at keeping to himself.

He was ready to tug on Lilith’s mane, but felt her lurch beneath him. Apparently the woman had ideas of her own, and faster than Aidan could blink they were heading towards the smoke that rose where a city once stood.

Again he sighed, exasperated as he watched the pretty blonde nearly fall from lack of strength. Yeah. That was a sure sign that they’d fair well against the Wicked Witch and her Evil Army.

“Come, let me help you. That brute is going to leave bruises on you.” He said, voice a bit softer as he reached down to help the blonde. He slid off the mare with ease. Aitan was sure that Lilith would be thrilled at his volunteer work, helping in her cause as he clung to the stranger’s small frame. His large, calloused hand slid down the black pelt in an offer of apology.

They had paused just out of the treeline n time to watch the cloaked woman fell a man with a sure shot. Impressive; the words spoken outloud resounded through his mind, mirrored in thoughts by the others as well as himself. The ‘brute’ named himself, Kale, as he charged into battle.

“Well, that was a tad dramatic.” He chuckled, while his nose cringed at the stench of ash and burning flesh. Fairhaven was no more.


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Character Portrait: Dawn of the Wood Character Portrait: Lily Aurinar
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Once the gates were breached, it was no longer a case of defending the town. The number one priority now was trying to survive amidst the chaos and carnage that was being carried out by Bandrial's accursed army. Having been separated from the guardsmen, Lily had kept to the shadows, using hit-and-run tactics to take out individual soldiers while avoiding larger groups. The streets were filled with bodies, mostly those of the townsfolk and the guardsmen. Lily had seen corpses both fresh and ancient, but that was back in Oakhall. She'd never seen such desecration committed before. There was no mistaking that Bandrial needed to die. The countless lives ended by her hand had to be avenged.

Taking a quick look out into the street from the building she had been hiding in, Lily could see another soldier, all on his lonesome. Sword drawn, she was about to go for an ambush, but suddenly a shout was heard. Female, by the sound of it. As the soldier turned, an arrow came out of nowhere, hitting the man right in the throat. The archer who fired said arrow quickly came into Lily's view as they went further down the street, seemingly intent on racking up a good body count. Looks like they could be quite a useful ally.

Just then, a glint of metal caught the necromancer's eye. The archer hadn't noticed another soldier who was watching from a nearby alley, and had decided to sneak up behind and go in for the kill. Of course, shouting a warning would've attracted attention, so there was only one option available. Once the soldier passed by the door she was at, Lily managed to ambush him. Although there was a brief struggle, she managed to kill the soldier before he could try doing the same to her.

If anyone had heard the noise, it was certainly the archer. A very scruffy-looking one at that, now that Lily had a chance to get a good look at the person she just saved. And, having ditched the hooded cloak during the fighting, the archer was in turn able to scrutinise their saviour. There was no mistaking that Lily was a necromancer, what with the clothes of black and dark green, and a couple of amulets made of bone. Right now, all that was needed in terms of communication was a simple nod of acknowledgement. Besides, the archer woman didn't look like a particularly chatty person anyway.


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Character Portrait: Agmund the Bard
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we drink to his name
and the villians he bled
shouting in the King's name
with his voice like a dragon
we're the children of Aurora and this land belongs to us
breath and sword his only possessions
the people shall sing to their freedom he won
with his life paid in full
there the clashing of swords
there the breaking of shields
there the fire from his eyes
and the lightning from his arse
when Valhalla beckons
may his cup be always full
with honey and mead
may his bed be always warm
with the women he loves
with sword in hand
and the blood of his enemies on his shoulders
he fell

When Agmund finished singing, he turned to the side to wipe his tears from his eyes.


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Character Portrait: Bandrial the Wicked. Character Portrait: Toran Character Portrait: Leonid Sulla Character Portrait: Alice Blackwood Character Portrait: Giddeon Rosenheart
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As Leonid entered she knew that something was terribly wrong. He may be a frail little man, but he had never looked at her with so much delicious fear in his eyes before. She was fueled by it, invigorated by it. Had a baby escaped? Had one of the towns successfully rebelled? Her mind reeled with different sections of bad news that could have Leonid so scared he seemed to be stuttering.

“My queen, I…I must bring you grave news, after studying the skulls for some time I didn’t find any special ones, nothing that could hint at any of them belonging to a chosen one. Moreover, the skulls didn't even seem to hint at the fact that certain babies had been elevated above the others. It was then that I decided to reread the prophecy and I’ve come to the unfortunate conclusion that we have misinterpreted it until now. While yesterday was the day the heroes were marked, it didn’t specifically say yesterday was the day they’d be born,”

Bandrial could feel the fire in her gut threatening to burst. What was he saying? How could she have over looked this? Had her own hubris gotten so far in the way that she could not see this tiny detail, this one little thing. This was going to cause her much work and frustration.

[color=red]”Continue..”[/b] her voice was booming and fierce. Electricity sparking from her fingertips in her aggravation.

“so I fear we have spent yesterday killing the wrong suspects. It is likely that the seven heroes are all still alive and trying to fulfill this prophecy…”

She let out a howl of rage, electricity sparking off of her and bouncing off of everything else and quickly becoming an danger to anything in the throne room.

“You may want to leave.” Giddeon warned the head of the secret police. “I don't think she wants to hurt you but it might be inevitable at this point.”

“Leave me Leonid!” She growled. “Get to finding out who these wretches are and quit wasting my time! If you have no use to me the I need you not!” She focused her energy to contact Toran.

"Get back to the castle Toran, make haste. I need you." She knew that he would be there as soon as he was able. Then she turned to Giddeon.

“Send someone to get Alice, it may be time to use one of the Aces up my sleeve. Let's nip this irritation in the bud, shall we?” she then sunk into her throne, still sparking with anger.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Aitan Wynn Character Portrait: Dawn of the Wood Character Portrait: Kale Character Portrait: Damien Vespera Character Portrait: Elle Primrose Mystique
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Damien caught the words of the girl muttering something about Wen Lief being Allies of Clerics thinking in his head, “That’s right. I guessed correctly that you were a member of the clergy then.”

He observed the swordsman help the clergy woman to her feet and informed him that he had a lot to catch up on. Damien nodded as he heard the swordsman introduce his name to the clergy woman and lifted her up. Kale looked towards Damien and told him, "Let’s go outsider…the woodswoman already went on keep up." “Yes, sir!” Damien nodded again and ran as fast as he could following Kale. He was a bit worried looking at the woman that was taking a ride on him but he decided to focus on keeping up and using the energy to fight. Damien felt he could trust the swordsman for information and figured he’d ask some questions when everything was calmer.

Damien admits he’s not as fast as the swordsman and definitely not as fast as the woodswoman. He huffed and puffed trying to keep an eye on Kale and feeling embarrassed at his low stamina. He did his best to catch up when he heard the outcry of a solider and Kale remarking about the woodswoman to confirm his thoughts.

After Kale charged in to help Fairhaven, he heard someone say “Well, that was a tad dramatic,” and turned around. The rider of the black mare had followed it seems, and Damien wondered about the skills of this individual.

“I apologize to you both,” Damien said to both the clergy woman and the mare rider. “I have no skills of weaponry like Kale the swordsman or the archer. However, I will do my best with my elemental prowess.”

Damien began to run a bit ahead to try and assess the area and the situation. He heard more screams as more soldiers were attacked and killed. What had caught his eye was something the other warriors had not noticed. A group of soldiers were hidden above one of the buildings with a burning flame hidden behind them. They were archers as well who lit their arrows using the flame and were burning the remaining houses adding fuel to the fire. Damien covered his hands again with the cloth and the glove and then focused on the flame that was behind them. A red spell circle glowed beneath him with ancient symbols meaning “fire”, “flame,” “burn,” and “control.” His eyes glowed red and seemed to contain a similar spell circle within them that he can’t see himself but others can. He held up his hands towards the flames trying to mold them away from the golden pot that carried it and lift it into the air. He breathed heavily as the flames danced around in a ball and the soldiers looked back and gasped at the sight. “You want to play with fire?” Damien asked. The red spell circle increased and glowed even more as Damien clenched his fists. He then unclenched them quickly letting the flames drop down quickly onto the soldiers surrounding it and burned them, increasing the heat as he heard each soldier cry out in pain. “Why don’t you burn yourselves. Burn in hell.” After he saw the soldiers blacken and fall, the building started cracking and falling to the ground in flames. Damien was shocked at first but made sure to continue focusing on the burning building, letting the flames die by spreading his hands out and making his eyes turn his normal color.

After the flames died out Damien took a step back, realizing he had just killed other people. He had only killed in Sageburrow animals that had threatened him or other children, but since no one came through Sageburrow much he never killed people. He looked at his hands wondering how many more he would have to kill and why he had to kill. He then saw more soldiers come out and try to burn other buildings as well and then Damien realized he had no choice. There was a bucket of water that was near the collapsed house and puddles from the downpour from before. He figured he easily had fire available, and he could reuse the water from the bucket to douse the flames. Damien also took note of the mud that was around and decided to use that as well if he needed to. He then turned to the other soldiers and put his hands towards the water from the bucket deciding to fight with water this time. It was going to be a long day of fighting he figured.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lilith Rawnstein Character Portrait: Aitan Wynn Character Portrait: Dawn of the Wood Character Portrait: Kale Character Portrait: Damien Vespera Character Portrait: Elle Primrose Mystique Character Portrait: Lily Aurinar
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#, as written by Jynxii

Lilith hung back silently as the group rushed blindly into the burning city, each on some heroic mission to save the half burnt town. The shifter watched them boredly, standing idly back as everyone else charged in, revealing their skills and abilities openly and carelessly. The swordman, charging around comically with his large blade. The archer, dainty and childlike with her size and appearance. Arrow after arrow consistently met it's mark. The mage, who stood waving his hands around, looking like he was having a secure for a brief moment before water directed itself towards his foes. It was all very boring. What did Lilith care if children of parents she did not know were being slaughtered? Less mouths to feed. More room on the planet for Una's children. These souls were all going to burn anyway, for not following the true beliefs. These 'heroes' were just slowing the inevitable.

With a shake of her mane, the mare turned to walk around the city. This was not her battle. The queen could do whatever she wanted to these people- they were not her people. They did not follow or respect Una. They were nothing to her. Just sacks of blood that consumed the forest to build their homes and spread their ignorance. She had turned back towards the woods when her mark began to burn once more, scolding her for trying to abandon the party she had been placed into. With a dark mental growl, she walked past Aitan, muttering mentally to him. End this quickly. I want to move on. Her voice clearly indicated how annoyed and bored she was with the whole situation.

Without saying anything else, she walked into one of the allies, ignoring the flaming arrows that shot past her flanks, nearly missing her. The soldiers of the queen seemed to pay her little mind. After all- what person in their right mind would give two damns about a horse walking by when there was a necromancer, mage, swordman, and archer attacking them? None, Lilith bet, and she was correct. She slipped by them with ease, going unnoticed. Once behind the ally where none could see her, she shifted into a beautiful hawk. She sore upwards into the sky, preferring a birds-eye-view on the situation at hand. Just how many did they have? From here, she could mentally send down locations of units and soldiers to Aitan on the ground, where he could relay to everyone else, should he feel the need to share the warning.

She let out a screech into the air, flying too high for the arrows to reach, as they were aimed at those on the ground, and not at her, in the air. After all; she was just a bird... You're out numbered, she sent down mentally to Aitan, knowing that he could hear her. Their mental rage was quite impressive from years of spending time together and building the skill. More soldiers coming on on the mage's right. Men on horses coming from the west. They seem to be weak in their left flank. The street to your east is filled with more soldiers. The street to the west is empty. Flank them that way. Their enforcements are already moving to the next town. They have no idea what's happen--- I see their scout. Pardon me, won't you dear? Need to intercept that message. With that, Lilith cut their mental bond and took off with another screech, speeding through the air after the skinny, lone soldier they had sent running through the back allies to get their enforcements.

In seconds she was on him. With another screech, she descended upon him, her claws digging into his eye sockets. The boy, as he was a boy and not yet a man, screamed and thrashed around-- but there was no one to hear him. He was too far from his officers, and their enforcements. There was no one but him, and the deranged bird that was assaulting his features. Lilith landed, and in one sick, bone crunching movement she shifted into her human form, watching the lad stagger around blindly, sobbing blood tears. Lilith clicked her tongue at him, slowly walking over. "Now, now,"[color] she purred, [color=darkred]"Hush now. This will only hurt a moment. Blessed be the children of the moon." She whispered the last sentence as her hands grabbed the staggering boy, no older than 13, by the head, swiftly twisting his neck and effectively snapping his spinal cord. He was dead within seconds.

The sound of his bones snapping were familiar to Lilith, and as the blood of his eyes gushed over onto her hands she released his corpse. Remorseful? Of course not. He was not the first life she had taken. She raised her bloodied hands to the sky,"Blessed are the children of the moon. Hail, Una, the one true Goddess." She smiled and looked back to the boy once more, making a 'tsk' sound with her tongue. With a sigh, she picked up his body and dragged him into a nearby door way, hiding the body. With a small shrug, she shifted back into her hawk form and took to the skies again, searching for Aitan. No re-enforcements. I handled it. Where are you?


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bandrial the Wicked. Character Portrait: Alice Blackwood Character Portrait: Giddeon Rosenheart
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#, as written by Aporia
Alice woke form her bed later then she usually would on any day, maybe the semblance of a good night's rest more important, considering the events of last night. The witch let out a heavy sigh and quickly rose from the bed, lest the nurses become unproductive without her. After a quick shower and a meal brought over by a servant girl, Alice felt slightly better for herself, and reached for her closet where an old friend had laid for a long time, her lips twitching into a smile.

“Hey Griselda.”

The broom still solitary against the wooden wall didn’t as much as move at its master’s presence. The witch feared as much, it’s moody, and worst of all, giving her the silent treatment. Granted it’s been years since they’d flown so Alice wasn’t exactly expecting open arms. Still, she grabbed the broom and proceeded to leave the room, running into one of her nurses on the way out.

“Sava,” she called to garner her attention. ”If anyone asks, I’ll be outside, checking on my beasts.”
“Isn’t it dangerous to go outside Madame Blackwood?”

”I can handle myself, dear, besides it’s just the front.” Alice told her, giving her a reassuring smile before continuing to walk off. ”Don’t think that means any of you can slack off while I’m away. You girls know your duties!” She called behind her shoulder, to hear a quiet “Yes, Madame Blackwood”.

As she made her way towards the stairs and then the roof, Alice could feel Griselda come around, her power flowing through the grip of the hand. The breeze was a nice, refreshing cold one and as the witch stood barefoot over the edge, Griselda was more than willing to forget years of abandonment for the chance to fly once more. Alice felt her heart race, in much the same way whenever she had a breakthrough in her research, and a familiar memory of her youth started to come back to her.
Standing at the top of the ice mountain in the middle of the night with the moon in full light and taking that one step over the edge to feel the wind blow back against her entire body while falling. It was just the same feeling Alice felt as she started falling upside down from the roof of the castle and clutched on to the broom which spurred into action, slowing the descent as it reached the ground before shooting up into the clouds and stopping so they could both have a birds-eye view of the area.

“Like the good ol’ times, hey Griselda?” Alice sneered for a moment as she sat on the broom, took a moment to take in the entirely dead view of the Ironedge Marsh and looked below, to find a train of prisoners, or food depending on who you are, escorted by a couple of guards. The witch lowered herself from the sky to her level, much to the surprise of both the guards and prisoners who saw her outside the castle.

“Miss Blackwood-“ One of the guards started to say in surprise, obviously puzzled and confused with her presence, “w-what are you doing here?”
She ignored the prisoners and their incessant crying as she answered the guard.
“I needed some fresh air.” Although one can’t speculate for the health of Ironedge Marsh, what with the poisonous fog, despite the fact that Alice had developed immunities for both herself and any guards who worked outside.

”Also, I wanted to see how my beasts are holding up.” The other guard turned his head at that point and had to inquire: “You mean, you made these creatures out here?”
With something akin to a sense of pride, she held her head quite high and smiled, very satisfied with her work. ”Of course. You didn’t think they were natural did you?”

Once all the chained prisoners reached the end of the stairway, they were freed of their leg chains, and allowed to run. Although they were confused at first, many did just that, as according to the program. Their screams curdled in the air as they were ripped apart by many of Alice’s creations.

It was better for the animals to fight for their food and better if the food was free-range and alive so their hunting prowess would be sharp and wild. To domesticate them, would be to weaken them, but it was better to control their minds with fear. One very notable creature was the giant three headed mutt, a creature that she’d dub as Cerberus, who tore apart the prisoners at an almost competitive pace with itself, each head viciously biting for the next piece of prey it can grab. The gnashing of bones as their bodies were crushed under its teeth was vicious, taking great amount of ferocious to chew into the sinew and muscle at a quick meticulous pace.

At this point, Alice could swear she heard her very name being called but ignored it for a little while as she watched the beasts eat with a curious interest. And then she heard it again, but louder.

“What the hell is that idiot doing?”

The witch turned, saw, and understood just that. One of the guards from the castle was running down from the castle, waving his arms like a lunatic, shouting her name. This was possibly the worst thing anyone could do in front of a series of monstrous, hungry creatures, such as the ones feeding right now, hence why the guards wore plate armor, and walked. Only those who the Queen had deemed important, Toran, Korak, Leonid, and her most recent boy-toy, Giddeon, could leave and navigate Ironedge Marsh with ease thanks to Alice’s work that prevents the animals from seeing them as hostile.

Of all the creatures to have noticed the messenger, it was Cerberus who had done so, chewing on a young woman as it took notice, the other two heads eating the top and bottom of her body as it’s rocked forward. It’s body bent forward, poised to run, saliva dropping from the edges of its mouths before leaping forward in a frenzied run towards the messenger, knocking aside the two guards like rag dolls and as it was mere feet from tearing the man apart. Alice swooped in between them atop Griselda with her arm extended towards the beast, suddenly stopped in place.

The ice that suddenly clutched and held still of all three of the beasts’ dog throats was shaped in the image of Alice’s hand, as her own hand slowly closed, so did the icy grip tighten. It was a completely unnecessary thing, to shout out spells and make hand gestures, as they were the crutches meant for amateur mages. As Cerberus tried to escape the grip defiantly however, she brought her hand, and the icy equivalent followed as the heads of Cerberus crashed against the floor, such hand gestures was completely necessary for the its wild mind to make the connection that she was responsible for the magic.

The grip tightened and it tried to breathe, its circulation cut, and the monster’s eyes glazed over before she lightened the grip and made the ice hands disappear, it’ll regains the strength it needs in a couple of minutes. Discipline was necessary for a monster who knew no thought and discipline was only achievable through fear. Alice knew Cerberus didn’t fear her when it didn’t cease from the attack of the messenger after she blocked its path.

The message was clear as the beast was subdued.

I created you, and just as easily, I can destroy you.

“Y-you saved my life.” The messenger said, dumbstruck at the events that transpired before him.
“I prefer to think of it you’re more useful alive then dead.” Alice Blackwood said coldy.
”Now, what was it you’re pestering me with?”
The witch cleared the distance as fast as Griselda could take her once the messenger made it clear that Bandriel urgently required her assistance.

As frivolous and narcissistic as Bandriel was, she knew better then to summon Alice on matters of extreme (or relative) importance, keeping in mind she acted as an advisor, she knew most, if not all, of the secrets Bandriel held and their dangers. As the witch approached the throne room, she could feel the Queen’s anger through the walls, and could only be re-assured of the worse. Alice opened the door to the throne room using a light push of air with one hand, her other hand carrying Griselda, and faced both the Queen as she sat on the throne and Giddeon who was by her. Blackwood regarded Gideon a bit like a black unicorn. A rarity, an outlier considering his history, and the very fact that he’s still alive but he was always unimportant to the matter at hand.

“Bandriel, I’ve received your message. What seems to be the problem?”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bandrial the Wicked. Character Portrait: Korak Character Portrait: Alice Blackwood Character Portrait: Giddeon Rosenheart
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Korak marched slowly toward the Throne room that beheld his Ruler. His metal heeled boots making soft clacks on the floor below him as his legs carried him into the Palace. He had been summoned by Bandriel, and as always, he was nearby skulking along the perimeter of the large haven of his Alpha to keep any possible threats from entry, he was after all, a Hound. Though he despised that term, Korak was a mighty Wolf, not a Hound. The scent of the outside world soon drifted from his keen nostrils and were quickly replaced with the warm, supple of what he deemed his home, it was musty scent of dust, and stone, and cloth, with a faint tinge of sweet blood and fear now and then. It was a welcoming scent, one humans couldn't detect easily, nor would it have the resonance within them as it did him.

As Korak sauntered through, he'd look at each Guard, most bowing their heads and avoiding eye contact, some freezing up and becoming stiff and unweary due to The Unease, or the spirit that rested under his eyes, whispering out for their blood and flesh if they met its cold and predatory gaze. A smirk would cross his strong-jawed maw each time as his black-bear fur coat flew behind him. The male was glad in light and nearly grizzled leather armor, his left arm and shoulder devoid of any clothing or armor other than strap in which his cloak linked to his body. A soft stubble of facial hair covered his chin and cheeks, but otherwise he was well-groomed, odd for a wolf. Tribal tattoos trailed along his neck, words and phrases, names of the greater creatures he had slain in his hunts. His right hand rested on the golden and emerald pommel of his heavy blade that lay in its sheath upon his side.

Korak pushed the great doors of the Throne apart with ease, his walk was poised and confident, nearly as confident as the voice that rang through the halls. "You called, majesty?" . There was no disrespect in that voice, nor disdain, only sincerity and that icy cold tinge of his tribal accent, still remaining after all these years. Upon nearing the Throne, he'd stop next to the Witch, who had already entered, dropping into a kneel before looking up at the Queen, his eyes reaching for hers for a brief moment before turning and starting at Giddeon. A cold, icy scare accompanied by The Unease from the creature within. After a few more moments of kneeling, he'd rise slowly and await her golden, powerful words. His ears still listening for anything else approaching Her throne.