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 A Royal Meeting of Blood

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Stone & Gold Mod

Posts : 4
Join date : 2018-04-24

PostSubject: A Royal Meeting of Blood    Thu Apr 26, 2018 2:08 am

A Royal Meeting of Blood
Cassia x Markon Introduction

Vezrial: He set the mug of ale down, yet to even smell the contents. Turning to look at the man next to him, he blinked and leaned a bit closer, saying as he did. “What did you just say?” The half-drunk man blinked at him. “You’re a pretty one, you want to go out for a few drinks?” He hiccupped and Markon rolled his eyes, slapping the man hard across the cheek. Which was apparently all he needed to pass out. Watching in disappointment as he fell to the ground unconscious. Markon hadn’t even hit him that hard! He looked around, a little frantic to find someone who might have been listening to their conversation, but the bar was a little reserved tonight. There hadn’t been many people that were close enough to hear what was being said, and less that cared. He turned to look at the barman, but almost slapped himself in the face when he saw the man trying his very best to inebriate a young woman while simultaneously keeping an eye down her bodice. He looked around trying to find anyone who looked like they might know anything about the topic that he had been speaking about with the drunkard. It was something Markon had said offhandedly, “I wonder if The Flower is still making their rounds….” That drew the attention of the man who said, “You mean the….” The last bit was interrupted by the mans noticing that Markon, was, unfortunately quite a becoming sight. He growled to himself, seeing that the other patrons in the bar were either too inebriated to get a decent word out, or looked like they might try to gut Markon for attempting to but in on their alone time with a flask of mead. He snarled again and swept out of the bar quickly, “What could that man have said about ‘The Flower…’ He obviously knew who it was… So maybe its somewhat common knowledge here?” He thought aloud to himself as he walked out of the bar. Turning his head hither and wither up and dwn the street to see if he could spy anyone who walked with any apparent sobriety. He had been hoping to find someone with a bit of alcohol in their blood. He couldn’t stand the smell of it as he was now, but a neat little work-around to that was drinking the blood of someone who was already inebriated. The effect was passed onto Markon and he enjoyed a delightful buzz or outright drunkenness before it wore off. Far too quickly for his liking. It was dark out, he didn’t know the name of the city he’d come into, though it had a port. He’d stowed away onboard and had somehow avoided the customs check long enough for him to get off the vessel and join the public throng passing by the docks. But now he needed to question someone, and if he didn’t find someone on the street… He might be forced to accost someone in their home… Markon sighed audibly as he came to that ridiculous conclusion, it would not work. He had boarded that vessel to escape the pressures of his reputation in his homeland and the other lands he visited. He did not need to start the rumors here as well. With that unhappy thought, he began to walk down the street towards the heart of the city. Hoping to find someone who was walking upright, straight, and sober. 12:20AM 11/8/2017

Quinzy: For as it were another day in Corviana, the hustle of working citizens and events strewn themselves across the Empire, pushing minds to be busy with something or another. As the docks began to silence themselves, each ship upon the waters fastened to their poles, the shipments began to be unloaded. Imports from a few trading lands, some of wine and others of material. As the peace remained in the upper West end, the Eastern region sludged their way through the crowds of bodies. Some were quite drunk, disheveled beyond belief, as the poor found great solace in the drink. It provided them with fuel to engage their daily obligations and requirements. Some, however, cannot handle the bite it supplies. As a body fell none too far from the wandering soul of a newcomer, an older woman with a soft face and firm grip swept some of the filth off of her porch-step, a light tut under her breath. The tut belonged to a younger boys direction, his cheeks pinched from a foolish, childlike grin and brown eyes brimming with wonder. The boy darted about the older woman, his foot almost slipping off the porch itself due to the water she had used to rinse just a bit ago. Quickly her hand wretched out, the broom falling off the porch, bouncing once, before hitting the cobble stone ground of the street ahead. "Dornius Markavios, how many times have I told you to watch your footing. While the kind of The Flower is great, one can not expect such a gentle hand always. I do not have the septums to pay for your heal." Her eyes squinted, face in a drawn scowl while Dornius withdrew himself, hands slipping behind his back and lower lip being clipped by his teeth. "Sorry Gran." Without much of anymore to say, the young lad eased himself back into the abode while his Grandmother came near to reach out and pick up the fallen broom. 12:45AM 11/8/2017

Vezrial: He was content to pass by the scene unfurling before him without too much care about it. But the second he heard mention of ‘The Flower.’ He stopped still. Turning to look at them as the little boy was scolded for his recklessness. He turned and approached the couple, putting on his best smile as he said in an honest, kind voice. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear the pair of you… Specifically mention of this ‘Flower.’” He smiled as he bent down to help the old woman and child back to their feet as he continued, “I’m not from this land, my home lies far beyond the horizon. But even there, word of this ‘Flower’ have reached us. I’m afraid that while business drew me here, I’d like to know more about this personage. Is she a deity?” He was smiling wide, and doing his best to conceal the lie that he had no real business in this land. It was mention of this ‘Flower’ that drew him here. The stories of someone as selfless as they… He needed them. He needed their aid and would wholeheartedly take advantage of them so that he could find a way out of this curse. Oh, don’t look like that. The ‘Advantage’ he’d be taking wouldn’t be to have her fix all of his problems… But to have her help him figure a way out of this curse. If only he could find out /how/ to break it… But alas, he had no clue. He’d saved people by the sword and with words, given to charity, worked for no pay or reward, but it never seemed to be good enough for that goddess… For the Moon some people would traverse hell and heaven, but for him. He just wanted out from under her eye. 12:57AM 11/8/2017

Quinzy: As Dornius had long gone inside, leaving his Gran to carry out her remaining duties until retiring for the night, she was stopped-short of her pickup when the newcomer came her way. With his hand reaching down and giving her the broom, she stood back up to her proper height and gave me a light nod of the head. "Gratias Tibi." The response was a civil 'Thank you' in the Corvian tongue. As the elderly woman dusted off her skirts with the slap of her palms, there did she glance up to the taller stranger and have her smile break out and onto her face. A hearty laughed lifted into the surrounding air, bringing a sweeter form of life in the otherwise bootstrapping edge of Corviana. "Oh no, dear boy. Although many make jest of her being a Goddess sent in mortal form, The Flower is Cassia, Emperor Avictus II's only daughter." With holding the broom in her hand, she turned back towards her door, leaning the duster against the stone walls of her home. "Tender young thing. Have not seen of her in recent days. Some speak of sickness, others speak of the Emperor's pledge to her safety. Hard to tell in these times." A sigh whispered from her thinned lips while the shake of her head caused the long, grey braid beyond her back to sway from the motion. As the elderly woman turned upon her heel, her dirt-riddled skirts with slight tatters coming to brush about her ankles, she gave one final glance to the man before going through her door. "Does not surprise us that the Emperor's name has spread, especially that of sweet Cassia. Perhaps if you ease to the West she'll be noticed. T'is the nobles grass." With a final nod, the woman entered her home and closed the wooden door behind her. The rest of the night began, but the bodies of Corviana did not thin as exceedingly. Many worked long hours within the East of the Empire, after all. If the stranger followed the signs, along with the drift of lower-caste housings to better villas, soon enough would the true wonder of Corviana behold him. While all held its beauty for architecture, the West kept gossip full. 1:24AM 11/8/2017

Vezrial: He watched as the old woman walked back into her home and shut the door, he was tempted to ram his head through the wall at her words. The person he’d hoped would be able to help him… Teach him… WAS THE FUCKING PRINCESS OF THIS EMPIRE?! He almost wanted to slap the silly shit out of the people that first told him about ‘The Flower.’ What a load of hogwash! He walked down the road, stopping here and there to vent his frustrations on an offending wall or signpost, he left a crack in the stone of the walls, and accidentally splinted the signpost a tad, it sat at an angle now and he winced at that. Sighing, he thought of how this could happen… Well, the first thing he’d need to do was to get to this ‘Princess Cassia’. Which was definitely easier said than accomplished, he stood for a moment, thinking… It might be impossible for a normal man… But… By his own ill graces, he was not a normal man. Because of that… Yes… Yes. It was possible, though risky. If he was caught, he’d no longer be able to stay in this country. He had no doubt that if imprisoned he’d eventually be able to escape, he’d seen the aftereffects of what The Beast could do to its surroundings. At the thought of those scenes of Carnage, he shuddered. He’d have to balance this well, he couldn’t go in armed, his sword and armor would have to remain in their hiding place for now, they’d only slow him down and if he was caught with them. They’d assume he was an assassin of some sort, he’d nary be able to convince them otherwise. But unarmed… Yes. He turned, and sprinted towards the West side of the city. He’d find out where this princess was, meet with her, and speak with her. And gods willing… She’d be willing to aid him in his quest. For there was no illusion in his mind, he wanted this womans help. She could point him to the door, even open it if possible. But he was the one that’d have to make the journey to walk through said door. 1:32AM 11/8/2017

Quinzy: Even in the night would the scale of Corviana's beauty cause sight to pause and take a moment to intake what is being given for visual pleasure. Pannonian workers had ventured from their lands, and slaves of the Empire purchased to bring life to what they already had across the Golden Sea. Upon nearing the West gate, the high arch of marble and stone, vines of greenery that were speckled with unique flowers native to Corviana would greet one upon arrival. Lush grass had ventured up and along the way, but entering one could see how heavily cared for it all was. From high marbled buildings with a river that navigated throughout the city, one which eased even through the lower sections of Corviana, the magnitude was of splendor. Villas adorned the land and its wide expanse, and the Red Chamber Arena was none too far off; it's towering height built for the grandest display of battles. Across the Western side, upon the hilltop which overlooked the Golden Sea and most of Corviana, resided the Villa Estate of the Emperor. While most of the West kept quite silenced due to the night, some spectacles were about, along with late night drinks at the lounge, or dips in the bath house. Far from its playful grasp resided Cassia. She sat within her room, a yawn threatening to spill out of her throat and past her lips, while the flick of a few lit candles kept her company -along with a book. The pale haired female with eyes of lilac rested along the chaise lounge just alongside the right winged balcony. As the curtains kept still due to the lack of a breeze, her even temperatured frame was comforted by the embrace of her silken nightgown. She was quiet, within the night, as most should be. Sat outside her door were night guards, and the height of her balcony was too great of a drop for her to venture off at this hour. So there Cassia remained, drawn into the pages of a written novella, with everything on her mind except rest. 1:59AM 11/8/2017

Vezrial: Coming up to the gate, and of course it was closed. The walls were too high to vault over… Or were they? He smiled at his inane plan, fully concocted on the spot. And retreated back towards the nearest building to the wall, the one with the largest roof. It didn’t take him long to find it, it seemed even the paupers homes improved the closer they got to the walls. They were by no means rich, but compared to the poor standing of the district he had just been in, these homes were quite splendid indeed. The men and women were of no doubt working class, but they had a decent home. He thought about popping in for a quick nip of one of the occupants, but he shook his head against it. He had fed a few days ago, and it’d be at least three more before he felt the touches of a ‘Frenzy.’ Besides, he needed the extra power that being low on strength afforded him. Climbing the outside of the house without anyone noticing or catching him was a small bit of a task. He had to move in the shadows, also slowly. You would be surprised about how many people will look up on instinct when they hear a strange noise coming from above them. And he definitely needed that tonight (Sarcasm.) So when he got up to the roof, he judged the distance between the house and the wall he was meaning to get across… I was at least a good ten meters, and a full meter or so higher than the roof itself. No way a normal human could make this jump… But he wasn’t human anymore! There were several times in the past few years that he thanked the stars for that. Or he’d be laying on the ground, bleeding, dead and dishonored. Markon backed up to the very edge of the roof, sparring a glance down at the streets below before he crouched down into a runners pose… Bunching his muscles… He Didn’t like it, but he willed the blood that he held within him to surge through his body. He felt lighter, stronger, and though it was only good for an instant, and It’d mean he’d need to feed either tonight or tomorrow or risk killing his Vict---His Donor. With the power of the blood surging through his limbs, he launched himself forward with such strength that the tiles where he’d been standing were crushed. He raced forward with the speed of a hound, arms pumping at his sides, wind brushing his hair behind him as he reached the end of the roof and made the leap! If the roof had been just a bit higher… HE might have made it completely over, but as it was. His body impacted the wall, and his hands scrambled to find purchase on the top. Barely finding purchase before he fell too far down for it to matter. He sighed in relief, but then froze in shock as he heard a voice speaking from below him. “What was that sound?” 2:21AM 11/8/2017

Quinzy: Such a night was rather silent on this side of the Empire. While a few giggles were being tossed about in areas classified as lounges or bath-houses, most of the streets were filled with the footprints of Corviana Guards. All guards were soldiers of the Empire's army, and usually these soldiers were stationed to their post unless requested to a specific field. When the crush of something or other slamming into the stone wall decorated of ivy vibrated into the air, causing a bird to squack and flutter off elsewhere, two guards nearby quirked a brow. "Hear that?" The one muttered to the second, sharing a nod among themselves, and hands sneaking towards the handle of their sheathed blades. "Don't suppose it's another plebeian trying to come about?" The end of his question lifted into a foolish chuckle, finding the entire concept of a commoner trying to intercept themselves into the West-end a hilarious form of jest. It had happened before and it did not end so favorably for the person who tried. With a shrug for a response, the guards began to make their way towards the gate, glancing through the slots of the white iron that curved and grooved in a decorative manner. 9:52PM 11/10/2017

Vezrial: The sound of the guards came sharp as a blade to his ears, the sound sending him into a slight panic as he struggled to hoist himself up onto the wall. The first attempt almost sent him falling back down as his grip suddenly slid back and he was scrambling on the wall with his legs to keep himself latched on, the guards were coming closer. He could hear the jingle of their mail and the sound opf their boots hitting the ground. With a perilous heave, his grip threatening to slip out for under his fingers at any moment. He hoisted himself up onto the top of the wall and leaped off without a second glance towards where he was landing. He probably should have however, as he collided with the roof of a quite splendid looking home, rolling along it. Cracking and breaking the tiles before he scrambled to his feet again and whirled around, looking for the largest, most expensive looking building in this district… It was some distance away when he spied it. It was truly the splendid palace he expected it to be. He would never be caught walking into it normally, he’d be too afraid of breaking the floor and having to pay hundreds in restitution. With that terrifying financial nightmare in mind, he took off in a run. Leaping off of one roof and landing on another, opting to travel entirely by rooftops as he didn’t want to risk running into a guard on the ground and having to explain his reason for being, as it was. He’d not be able to talk his way out of this one if he were caught… 10:02PM 11/10/2017

Quinzy: At the sound of an alarming crash did the guards jump at the sound, their heads easing backwards, eyes gazing into the night filled with stars as to see if they could catch where it came from. As tiles from a nearby rooftop slipped down, one tumbling onto the grounds below, their eyes narrowed and senses were on high alert. Something was incredibly off-putting. "Call about some others, this isn't right." The second guard agreed in silence, his body soon wandering off in the direction of the barracks. While these men did their duties for the Empire, collecting more to investigate and search within the Western part of the city, Cassia clipped her novel shut and breathed out a yawn. It was not due to being tired as more so dulled by the looming boredum. She placed the book upon her nightstand, just alongside a large goblet of fruit, and made her way to the balcony. Pushing the teal curtains to the side, her palms locating the edge of the stones, Cassia brought her sight across the view of the sea. It was dark and the water itself appeared black, as if it were melted obsidian. 10:24PM 11/10/2017

: He knew he hadn’t been quiet getting in, and he’d left evidence of arriving into the district. They’d be looking for someone like him now. But this didn’t seem to deter him much, if anything. It invigorated him to move faster and faster. He was… Getting a kind of rush from this. It was completely inane, who else but Markon would rush off into a strange kingdom, find out that a creature he’s heard stories about for the past several years is the princess of said Empire. Then try to break into the palace to meet with her? Only Markon would think up this plan. And finally, he came to a stop below the palace itself. A Grand Villa if ever he saw one… Though, the grandest castle he’d ever seen belonged to a man back in his homeland who was lord over the area he lived in. But that paled in comparison to this, it was like comparing a swamp to a field of flowers. Someone might like the swamp, but everyone loves the field of flowers. As he took in the villa in all its splendor, he began to look around and explore the area. Looking for an exploitable weakness for him to get inside the grounds. 10:36PM 11/10/2017

: Markon would come to notice, upon his investigation, that the stone walls were at least 20 feet in height and the gated doors exceeded it by at least another 5. Guards also patrolled the inside grounds, two at the front of the gate, upon the inside, and two upon the outside. At least four navigated the grounds, rounding about in a clock-wise manner, to make sure everything was smooth, quiet, and not disrupted. The estate itself reached at least five stories, even if there were only three. The high ceilings made it appear like there were more levels. At the front, where the gates would part, the pebbled ground shaped like a sphere with a fountain fastened in the center upon a plot of grassy land. White pillars spanned along the side of the front of the abode, giving enough room for the thick slabs of stone steps up to the front door. Lanterns were placed about, emitting a golden glow along the gardens. It almost seemed the home of a Fae royal. Trees adorned the grounds, and directly along the back, which overlooked the Golden Sea as it was the cliffside, was a splendid, grand garden and maze. Plots of plants, bush, and flora were all throughout the Villa Estate. 10:57PM 11/10/2017

: The wall was too high for him to leap over, he’d have to find some way to climb over it… But that in itself presented another problem. The guards on the inside of the grounds would be damn near impossible to get by… IF they stayed on their patrol routes that was… As much as it pained him, this might mean someone would have to die. Closer inspection of the grounds told him that the security was enough that they’d never be caught unawares. And since he was unable to use magic, not that he ever knew any, (Assuming magic is a part of this.) he wouldn’t be able to stealth his way past them. That left one avenue available to him. A distraction, but it’d have to be a large one. Something that would cause them to freak out enough that they’d concentrate their efforts on one area… Though it did seem that luck was with him tonight. He leapt to a building that had a clear view of the front gate and at the same time, a clear view of a section of wall out of the direct line of sight for it. The roof he leapt to had a chimney on it, it wasn’t too bad for a chimney. Probably made out of some expensive stone that he couldn’t pronounce. He took a step back, bunching his muscles up and slammed his fists forward to the stone. Both of his hands punched straight through the rock and cracked it substantially. HE winced at the pain from the rock biting into his knuckles… But he couldn’t stop now. He waited some time before doing it again and again, until the top of the chimney wasn’t really connected to the rest of it anymore. Gripping it and trying to lift it was another matter however. He couldn’t get a good grip without crumbling the rest of the stone. On his second attempt, he was able to grip the stone properly and heft it. It must have weight a good hundred or two hundred pounds. Not something he normally would have been able to attempt without his special “Perks.” (Oh shit, I rolled a nineteen for this part!) with a grin, he took a single step back, leaning his body back like a baseball pitcher as he hefted his enormous, stone, “Ball.” And with a inhuman, gargantuan effort. He threw the chunk of stone as hard as he possibly could towards the gate of the Villa. Smiling to himself as he watched it sail through the air with the force of a cannonball. 11:22PM 11/10/2017

Quinzy: While the stone would soar itself through the air, the crush of the sound before that at the breaking of stone had caused a cluster of some of the guards to shuffle towards that direction. Their march of about five to six men, splitting up to tackle left and right sides of the streets, would bring them to branch out and locate where it was coming from. Some muttered about taking the high-road, and building up to the sky in their search, which ended with a few nods in agreeance since nothing had been seen on the ground. Just at the end of the established discussion had the eyes of one man come to glance up, his finger pointed to notify the others as the slab of stone sored through the sky. "It came from the left!" Three of the men quickly made their way to the correct building, finding a method to ease their way up to the rooftop, while a noble from inside the home stuck his head out of his window. "What's all that racket?!" He bellowed, his voice traveling about only to be silenced as he noticed soldiers surrounding his abode. Before he could protest the men pushed in his door, trying to find a way to get inside and up to the roof at a faster rate. From the sore of the man's broken chimney, as well, the rock would soon come to only connect with -not the gate. A glint would be noticed, and as the stone hit this glint, the chunk came to explode upon connection. Bits of pebble fell from the sky, hitting a few upon the head as guards cursed and were on alarm. The villa had a barrier surrounding it, all in thanks to some of the members of The Aura. 11:40PM 11/10/2017

Vezrial: He gaped at the shimmering golden field that surrounded the villa. The flash of the arcane shield he witnessed made him stamp his foot in anger, cracking more tiles. Then his attention was drawn down towards the guards and the noble. He almost scoffed, It was unlikely, that with the darkness surrounding them, and the dust flying from his attempted distraction. That they’d be able to get a good bead on his appearance. Long hair, general body shape, male, but unless their eyes were as good as his… He doubted they’d be able to hold a lot in that category. So when one of them came close to getting onto the roof with him, he almost danced over to the man and delivered a swift kick to the side of his head. He misjudged how hard he swung at the man however and instead of a light knock against the side of the head to send him at the ground, he watched as his kick broke in the side of his helmet and blood spurted out from the wounds. Screaming, he fell from his perch and down below. Markon winced and shouted, “Sorry!” Before taking a running leap across the street and to another house’s roof. Running away from the guards and the noise he caused, he began to look around the ground. His eyes scanning for any kind of sewer or underground entrance that he could fit through. 12:00AM 11/11/2017

: As the clatter of a foot with the side of a skull, the strength of a cursed beast of a man was the end of one of the soldiers, his body soon to tumble down from the siding and end up hitting a fellow comrade on the way down. Both of them hit the ground, yet only one of them continued to breathe. At this outcome, along with a shout of an apology (?), the soldiers grew in frustration and alarm. This was nothing to be taken lightly anymore. They speculated rebel forces were at play here, and the civil war the civil war the Emperor was trying to keep quiet was brewing more violently. Although it was far from the truth, this had the men ready to locate and kill, rather than locate and disarm. Unable to recognize the leap of a body to another area since most of the men were inside, soon to come out and into the night, Markon would proceed to see the Villa Estate was well fortified. Nothing other than a neighboring cemetery, at least three buildings between it and the Estate, would be noticed. Could it be a possibility of entrance if one was out to discover and analyze? Or perhaps the best bet could be trailing around the Estate and hoping to find a sewage system that could lead him under and in? -- Whatever the option, he had limited time to think and calculate. The soldiers were collecting themselves, and some that made it to the roof had spotted his shadowed form. 12:10AM 11/11/2017

Vezrial: His options were few, if it’d been as simple as he wanted, he could have made it easily inside. But at this rate… He needed to lose the soldiers. If he continued this chase along the rooftops much longer… They’d post archers on the Villa walls to shoot him down, and while an arrow or two wouldn’t do much real damage to him. If they managed to fit him with more than that… Or if they were good enough shots that they could pin his arms or legs, that would severely limit his mobility. He decided that the cemetery was the better bet. It was foggy, classic for a place of the dead, and he was dead himself! Maybe he might be welcome there, but probably not. Either way, the soldiers would be hesitant to spill blood ontop of their ancestors while he was not so reserved. That, and he would like to think that they wouldn’t want to follow him in… So with a flying leap in that direction, he collided and rolled with the ground, sprinting into the cemetery and opening all of his senses to see what he could find, a whisper of air that would lead underground, a smell of rust that would tell of an old door into catacombs, something, anything! He’d come too far, and even killed a man. (Accident) To get this far! He couldn’t turn back now! 12:16AM 11/11/2017

: The cementary was a large, expansive area, which eased into a hilltop. Some shrubbery was about that acted as fences and even had passages for an arch, leading into specified areas that had tombs and family owned plots of remembrance. Stone paths swirled and curved along the grassy land which was damp from a late night mist. Markon would come into the gated community of the dead, noticing the different manner of tomb stones, while along the right hand side began a garden of tombs themselves. There were so many, each with their own unique image and design, that the idea of what was unlocked and what could possibly lead to the Villa, or catacombs, was questionable. It hardly seemed like he would have the time to check all of them. Impossible and impractical. The soldiers as well were gaining up, having fled the building he had abandoned and running in the direction they assumed. While they did not know of his entrance into the cemetery, some would definitely come as to check all places imaginable to purge the trespasser. 12:26AM 11/11/2017

: It was a fucking maze! He let out a breath in exasperation, twisting his head this way and that, looking for some kind of indication of what he was looking for… There were no giant, burning signs that said “HEY! SECRET PATHWAY HERE!” Which would have been nice, but instead he got burial vaults, grave plots, tombs… He sighed in frustration and knew that he wouldn’t have time to check all of them. So he opted for the most obvious choice, a tomb house. He stalked through the graveyard at a quick pace until he reached one such tomb. It was lavish indeed, made of marble and granite colored extravagantly… Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be a lock on the door, so he walked up to the door as anyone might… only to be met with resistance. He blinked and looked at the door closer… There was a lock! Damn! He sighed and looked around, he wasn’t a thief. He couldn’t pick locks! But… at the risk of being heard… He put his back to the stone door and brought a leg up, waited to see if there were any signs of a guard nearby… When he heard none, he slammed his foot behind him in a mule kick. Hoping that his body muffled the sound as the door busted in and swung back. Letting him fall backwards into the tomb. He blinked at the dust inside and quickly examined the door. It was not broken, but had been locked with a simple deadbolt. He’d hit the door apparently the right way and the deadbolt had snapped in half, he quickly closed the door so none would think anything was untoward about the tomb before he turned to examine the interior for anything he could use. 12:37AM 11/11/2017

Quinzy: Even while the sound was hardly quiet, the soldiers had yet to tumble into the cemetary, thus leaving the vibration of the clatter to be nondisturbing into the night. No ears had heard the assault upon a tomb's door. As Markon would ease into the hall of dead, soon to prop the door back up and bring silence once more, his body would be engulfed in the dark room. Nothing but black and the scent of dust. Bodies within the tomb were encased in stone coffins, therefore the scent was reasonably held back, leaving nothing but a lingering aroma of mold. Old candles hung about in chandeliers, although the sight would be hard to see, and while the space within the center was open and free, the walls each held shelves which held the tough coffins. The interior, however, was luxurious. Gold smalti tessera littered upon the grounds; a mosaic of such tiles that would glint if polished. Clearly a royal tomb. Walls were of white marble, while the back wall held an image of the God, Hadus, in honor to watching over the dead. His sculpture would be carved from the marble, and left palm would face forwards, flat, while the right held onto his staff. Gems adorned the staff's top, its configuration resembling a skull. The hollows of the eyes each held a ruby. 12:52AM 11/11/2017

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Join date : 2018-04-24

PostSubject: Re: A Royal Meeting of Blood    Thu Apr 26, 2018 2:09 am

Quinzy:  With these eyes of ruby that embedded itself within the cranium of a sculpted skull, there would they glimmer with the desire of want and capture. A beckoning to those with hearts that swell with Greed. Such gems were made to glisten, and inside resided a faint glow; an illumination in its core that swore to something more. Speculation thought to that of magick, but the question was of what kind, and what reaction? If the hand of Markon came to reach out and pull upon the rubies instead of looking elsewhere for a press to reveal the truth of the tomb, there would the chaos ensue. As the internal chanting of desire could not be ignored, this hand coming near, fingers itching to pluck, would fall weak to its demand and fulfill its urge. The left eye of a ruby would find itself being wiggled out of its chamber and the sound of a mineral scraping against stone filled the tomb with an audible scratching sound. As soon as it disconnected from the socket, that small illumination would suddenly come to life, causing the ruby to enhance in its hue and shoot out a blinding light. The entire tomb would soon be filled with a red glow and it hardly took seconds for the scraping of circular openings from the walls to echo, sliding open in order to realize what would eradicate an intruder. Quickly would spikes shaped like cylinders, one with a menacing and sharp tip, come jolting out from its confines. The height came from various angles, coming to slice right into Markon's torso, mid-section, thighs, and calves. The crunch of grinding through flesh, muscle, and bone filled the ruby toned room. The tips of the spears glistened dripped with his life blood, painting the tesserai grounds and dotting it as if it were a painting. Escape was no where to be found, this would be sure enough. Markon was trapped. From beyond the tomb and the walls of the palace, would the sound of a low siren begin to bellow in the royal halls. It started deep and lulling before easing up to a higher pitch, pinching at the ear canals and forcing itself to be discovered. Guards would rush from their beds and posts, and that of the Pincerna, the Emperors right hand man in the matters concerning of order in the house and among slaves, would come to arose from his rest. His groggy form would hurry into a wake before he bellowed his voice; sharp and severe. "What is all this racket?! If the Emperor hears this there shall be a dozen flames on the horizon!" It did not take him long to realize that this sound was distinct and the cause of a trap released. His tired eyes creased at the corners in a squint, wrinkles of his age displaying itself across his features in this highlight of irritation and bewilderment. Someone was trying to break in. The Pincerna, Janus being his title given by the Emperor, quickly managed himself to his door and barged out and into the hall. Catching numerous guards scattering outside, some turned to him, pondering the question. "Do not be fools, check each escape route! One is bound to hold the criminal." 'If alive, still' came a following thought. For this sound would mean the trap set off, and most likely the intruder would have met a painful demise. --------------- Beyond that of the hustle of Janus and the wild speed of the guards, Cassia would stir in her bed chamber; body tossed beneath soft sheets only to have her eyes pinch until slowly opening. She released a yawn and a confused stare before pushing up from her palms to sit on her bed. The harsh sound echoing about the villa made her ears ache. Catching the sight of the sky beyond her windows, the moon and stars still alight, the Emperor's daughter instantly new something was chaotic. For while the sound did this alone, the hour made it sure it was no test. 4:24AM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: The Ruby glistened in his hand as he plucked it from the socket, hefting the solid gem in his hand, he thought to himself. ‘I have no need of money… But this could be useful in other… What’s that light?’ The blinding light that suddenly filled the crypt made him yell in surprise. The ruby dropping from his grip as he moved to shield his eyes from the painful light. He heard the scraping sounds and his senses told him something was coming towards his shoulder. He could determine, roughly, where the wall had opened due to the sound. His body leapt to the side, out of the way as a spear embedded itself in the wall he had been standing by just a split-second before. Still blinded, he grinned wide and assumed, wrongly, that was the only spear. There must have been some delay in the others or that specific one was just an early shot. Because next thing that he was aware of, spears had impacted his body, his eyes shifting in primal fury and his fangs extending as he was slammed into the opposite wall. Pinned there with spears shoved through his chest, thighs (Bit too close to the family *Jewels*), and his calves. It left his arms mostly free, not that they were any use in this situation. The spears were made of Steel, or so he thought. Trying to shift some of the spears away did… Nothing. He was well and truly buggered here. He was considering the possibility of staring at a wall for all eternity, interesting wall though it was. Some moss growing here… Oh look! A crack! How interesting. But his hopes for an eternity of watching the paint dry, essentially, were dashed by approaching footsteps, the distinct smell of a torches tar and… Oh no. The ringing of chainmail and stomp of armored boots. He rolled his eyes and let his head rest on a spear that had embedded itself next to his head. “Guards… Just what I need.” 4:37AM 4/20/2018

Quinzy: It was not long before the thundering of numerous footsteps found themselves fastened outside of one of the Avictus tombs. While no true Avictus members resided there in their death, as it was more a display than an actual burial site, it was enough to place a false portrayal. Guards held up their swords, facing the entrance before one of those of a higher position took the lead. Easing to the gated entrance to which was adorned by some moss and vine, the guard took a peak through some shrubbery and iron to catch sight of a male's body impaled in numerous places. Slowly did he lower his sword, feeling a smirk come on at the foolishness of this scoundrel, ... until he watched the casual flop of a blonde scalp rest along a spear nearby the head. "Impossible..." He muttered. While now many should understand the impossible could be possible with today's reality, still, many did not know gifted/cursed individuals. Many did not witness such peculiarities on a daily; some still held their disbeliefs. "Ready yourself, men." He stated justly. Sliding open the iron gates and squinting past the blaze of a vibrant red light, he shuffled about until finding the release; a hidden latch burrowed beneath a certain casket near the right hand side of the front door. Pressing upon this spot, the spears would slide out of this male's body in a slow process; easing their way back to their homes like that of stiff snakes. Quickly did other men shuffle in, watching the body of this man possibly almost fall from where he had been perched, and hauling him up. There were men all surrounding him. "Even if he is about to die of blood loss, he is to be brought to the dungeons. By morning, if he is still alive, the Emperor will demand to see this wretch." With a quick nod of his head, guards would begin to drag him off, and the man of said higher rank would pick up the fallen ruby before placing it back inside its designated spot, thus erasing the blaze of red blinding the room. 4:54AM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: When the men came into the room, the first thing they would have noticed was the complete lack of blood around the body. Since Markon was, in effect, dead. His blood was congealed and he didn’t bleed unless he wanted to bleed. He didn’t want to bleed right now, he’d need what blood he had to heal the wounds… If he got that chance. His cold, yellow eyes watched them as they progressed through the crypt. When the spears came sliding out of him, without even a thank you. He bit his lip and cursed. Falling to the floor, almost too weak to stand in front of the pain. When large, strong arms lifted him up… His eyes snapped to the man on his right. Wearing heavier armor than the others, same with his comrade on the other side of Markon. HE wore half-plate armor, covering the majority of his torso and part of his legs. But there was a tiny bit of his skin visible from where the helmet gapped between the actually cuirass. His eyes latched onto the sight of the skin and before he knew what he was doing. His head was launching forward like a snake. His body moving and dragging the other guard with him, despite the fact that with armor on… He must weigh at least what twice Markon did. Not to mention a good half-foot of height. His fangs slid out from his canines and he bit into the armor of the poor man, he screeched as he felt and more likely heard. Good, strong iron bending at the mouth of this man who was somehow still alive. Several men rushed forward to grab at the impossible man they had in their capture. After at least three solid hits to his cranium with the butt of a sword, Markon released the guard from his mouth. From that point on, he wasn’t let go. He was quickly manacled and shackled. Wasn’t even allowed to walk on his own and instead was dragged by the chains that bound him until he reached the dungeon. The instant their hands were off of him, he launched himself at them again. His eyes turning red and glowing in the dim light of the dungeons. He could smell it, almost taste it. The precious, valued /life/ coursing through their veins! He needed it! For a time, he raged in his cell. Like a wild animal, he could easily be mistaken for one. It was at least an hour before he calmed down… The chains still holding fast to him… Relenting for now. Long body filled with thin, ropy muscle. Definitely gaunter than when he had come into the city that day… He closed his eyes and focused on healing. He wouldn’t be able to completely heal the damage, but he wouldn’t be at risk of anything falling off. But now he was seriously hungry… He felt bad for the next person to come into the room. Almost. They did beat him more than what was probably necessary… Though he did try to eat someone. Nah, it was still unfair. 5:19AM 4/20/2018

Quinzy: Hours swept by but one would never be able to tell when buried between slabs of stone and iron bars. No windows graced the space beneath the thick layers of Dawn. This was more a forced addition as to play with the minds of those who dared to defy Corviana law, as what is one solid way of clouding thoughts than to steal their essence of time? It just goes on and on. Guards would soon ease down the steps; more than one due to being informed of what was beyond the stone walls and a steel door with iron bars between a sections at the top of the door. Peeking into the darkness, adorned from head to toe in heavy armor, men would begin to enter the room and come to collect. While Markon was fastened to a wall by chains, these men did not bother to take their chances with something they labeled an animal rather than a man. Nothing but a beast in the clothing of a mortal. Whenever they managed to grasp at him, he would be pushed and dragged along stone steps as they eased out of the dungeon; winding up coiled staircases that displayed how deep underground they were. How separate it was from proper civilization. Beyond and above, Emperor Arulius Avictus II sat upon the Corviana throne, his cold and calculative eyes scanning the wide expanse of the room. It was a pristine and upscale setting, but he cared not for its value at the moment; he simply squinted at Janus and glared right through him. "What has proceeded?" While the look in his eyes burned of outrage, the external disposition delivered was far from a screech. His tone was calm and level, one that should not be mistaken for being of reasonable fairness. Janus cleared his throat, adjusting his robes before looking up to the Emperor with a straight back and elivated chin. "We are unsure of the man's title nor background at the moment, however the Guards are bringing him up as we speak. They speak of him, or It, as more of a creature than a man." Arulius querked his brow, a sneer on his lips but curiosity etched onto his features. "More creature than man? Are our enemies sending us monsters, now?" For a moment he felt prideful, the idea of his lessers trying to outmatch him by means of feral beasts due to being unable to match the strength of his army through meer mortal men. "We shall find out soon enough, Your Grace. -- Bring him in!" Janus had turned on that moment, staring at the doors that would part on either side. Each individual looked miniscule at the moment due to the stretch of easing towards the throne, its placement higher as to look down. Arulius sat alone before Janus joined closer, near the lower, left hand side. Guards were placed down the length of the red rug, standing tall and firm; watching and waiting for anything to go amiss. As for Cassia, his daughter had not yet been called upon; not yet. 5:42AM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: The heartbeats of the guards coming into the room alerted him immediately. His head snapping towards them as the first came to stand outside of the bars. But through some act of will that he wasn’t aware that he had.. He forced the Beast inside of him down. His eyes slowly shifted away from the glowing red they had been the entire time he’d been near the palace guard and back to their cold yellow… He straightened up as the guards went about their normal business. Telling him how much he would suffer if he resisted, blah blah blah. He stopped listening honestly, he was contemplating escape when he saw just how many of them there were. If there were less than five… He might be able to take them. But there were at least a good dozen, all outfitted in the heaviest of armors one could gain. It was with that in mind that when the doors opened and they lowered their spears and swords to him. But, if he were to be forced into this. He would walk on his own two feet and with pride. So he did, striding forward and into the guards presence. They all looked to him nervously. But he addressed one of them, at least attempting to keep himself civil. “Where are we going?” The one he spoke to seemed surprised, but his grip on the spear relaxed somewhat as he said. “The Throne room… You’ve been summoned.” Markon nodded, satisfied with that answer. Wait… Throne room? He blinked in some confusion, but before he could ask something else. Others prodded him with their weapons, causing no damage but annoyance more so. HE almost hissed in warning, but managed to curb his anger at them. With the guards surrounding him, holding lengths of chain attached to various manacles on his body, he walked to the Throne room under his own power. It was when he arrived and the light shone on him, Markon himself lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the glare. That his demeanor and presence was truly seen. Despite the fact that last night, all the guards must have seen was an animal with fangs stretching down to his chin. Now, he looked fairly decent. His hair was luxurious and rolled off of his head in silky golden waves, his face was angular but still managed to hold a sweet, charming embrace to it. His skin was the color of milk, possibly the only thing detracting from his good looks on the normal… That being said, he was fairly tall at standing just over six foot. His form however was riddled with bruises that had yet to heal and evidence of puncture trauma all over his body and through his attire. Though no blood could be found on his clothing. There was a… Jerk to how he walked. His eyes snapping to every beating heart in the room as he walked. When the guards finally jerked him to a stop, he let his arm fall from his face. Observing the room openly… It was quite plain to see that given maybe two weeks, perhaps three, of proper feeding and rest. He would regain the full splendor of his good looks, that being said. He looked like the starved aristocrat on visit from an exceedingly poor land. His good looks definitely qualified him for that. But to one of discerning eye… You could easily tell that the tattoos that ranged up and down his arms, over his neck and down his back, were done so because of renown. Each of them told a story of Valor, of Glory and History, Cunning, each an achievement to the owner. Markon’s eyes finally settled on the man sitting on the throne, he looked a bit… Oily. If he did think so. So when everyone looked to him, he gazed blankly back at them. Answering their silent question with, “What? You don’t expect me to bow to some overdressed puffin do you? It’s not like /he’s/ my king.” Particular emphasis was put on the fact that Markon had a difficult time believing that this man was a noble at all. Self-proclaimed maybe, but royalty was out of the question. Seriously, did he even know what a comb was? All of this, was clearly evident on his face. Which despite its noble good looks… He spoke with the ways of the commoner. A tasteful vintage, if I do say so. 6:11AM 4/20/2018

Quinzy:  As soon as the male was trudged up to the lower portion of the throne, just enough away that all could be seen clearly and a connection of the eyes could be made, the words that fell from the fools mouth was enough to pick at an ease of irritation for the Emperor. Surely, however, he made sure to not exposure such an internal thought and experience. "I am far less impressed than anticipated. Where is this beast based on reference?" Arulius scanned the room, looking past the man with golden locks and back to the door, speculating the notion that these foolish guards simply unveiled the wrong criminal. Glancing back to the man, there did the icicle eyes take note of his exterior; the puncture wounds upon his form, blending among bruises that smeared across alabaster flesh. "A Gifted, perhaps?" Janus interjected in thought, to which Arulius placed up his palm in order to silence. "Gifted? I doubt such." They spoke as if he was hardly in the room, or an individual who even understood language. "You." Suddenly he swiped back, focusing on the target beneath. "Who are you and who sent you to infiltrate my land and home?" Emperor Arulius managed everything with a chilled aspect of relaxation. It was wrapped in a tense atmosphere, yet based around lines of impatience and covered irritation. Everything spoke was either firm or monotonous, and this was no different. As he glanced down at the man, he only hoped he did not have to bother fetching his daughter to pry answers out. However, usually it was always necessary. 6:26AM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: He was cuffed for his insolence against whoever this overdressed pippin was… But that just made him smile. He lifted his eyes to the man on the throne, watching silently as he spoke. It didn’t take long for him to finally ask the question and when he did, it took Markon a moment to register that he’d actually been spoken to, what an honor! He voiced this feeling. After deliberately waiting another moment with a slow-thinking look on his face, the corners of his mouth split in an open smile as the words left his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were actually speaking to me. Whoever you are.” He said the next bit under his breath, earning him a sharp cuff to the back of his head. “You overdressed puffin…” But, he saw the dangerous look in this mans eyes… He would have no problem ordering Markons execution. While himself, he wasn’t sure if that would carry through. He did know that he felt pain, so he could just be tortured for the next ten years. Not something he wanted to do, so. He stuck to what he did best… Telling outrageous lies. “Right, my apologies your shining lordliness… I was sent by….” He chose a name completely at random. “Telesius.” And then he inwardly groaned at the choice. Why, why, why that one? Damn you brain. But, Markon stuck to his words. “Not her specifically… But her priests. They had a reading… Of the…” Another random choice. “Tea leaves! Yes, royal, expensive they were. They told us that… If you don’t start taking care of your hair. You’re never going to get an honest opinion from a woman.” Okay, so Markon holding his tongue was impossible. He had a very bad habit of mouthing off to important people or people in an advantageous position over him when it was least opportune to do so. One time, it cost him an arm. No, seriously. He literally had his arm chopped off. Killing five men with a single arm never seemed so difficult before that, let me tell you. 5:56PM 4/20/2018

Quinzy: The backhand performed by one of the guards holding this insolent man did not bite back on the force of his blow. Emperor Arulius watched with empty eyes; hollow and chilled irises that seemed to offer no sense of comfort for any individual. He allowed him to ramble; spill his words until he was done releasing oxygen. The mention of Telesius was sure enough on his foolhardy antics, but the ending line set it all the more in stone. Arulius expected such, as was the normal routine. Janus interjected before Arulius even considered a response. "How dare you address the Emperor in such a foul manner-" Arulius raised his hand, silencing Janus from continuing which caused his eyes to widen and face to appear as if he were to protest. No words were exchanged, however, and instead a slight 'Hm' left the throat of the man upon his throne. "I see." There was a moment of pause as he stared down at the nameless barbarian with a sharp tongue. "Barric, go fetch Cassia. The impertinence of this cretin is not something I wish to waste an entire afternoon on." Arulius had hardly moved from his position; posture straight and arms lounging upon the rests of the throne on either side of his form. Barric, one of the men adorned in armor stationed off to the right, alongside other soldiers who stood rigid along the length of the throne hall, gave a curt nod and regarding him as "Your Grace" before turning upon his heel and easing out of the room. Arulius kept his eyes on the man below with a blank expression. "Are you perhaps finished?" His statement was clipped in an underlining tone of warning, testing him to see how far he wished to take this. Beyond the halls, Barric navigated his way across the large Villa, easing himself towards the chambers of Lady Cassia. In the eyes of public and for sake of title, the tone would drift depending on preference. Cassia is frequently regarded as a Lady, such as Lady of House Avictus, however some have introduced her as Princess, or Grand Duchess. In this sense, Barric stuck with the former: "Lady Cassia, the Emperor summons you to the throne hall." His spoke with a tap upon the outside of her finely carved, double set doors. Inside, Cassia placed down her book and stepped away from the bellow of the winds from her balcony. Her indifferent irises, one of ice blue and one of lavender, turned to the door and she nodded before sighing. Pale hands like that of the moon wrapped around the doorknob before pulling it open, and as she gave a gentle nod to Barric, she spoke with a softness one did not tend to expect from an Avictus. "Thank you, Barric." He nodded back to her and they soon eased towards the area of which he had just ventured from. The passage did not take long, and anything that had exchanged between Arulius and that of the cretin would be placed on a brief pause as soon as the doors opened up and Barric announced himself with his presence once again. At first he appeared alone, but then did the smaller stature of Lady Cassia ease into view, her steps gentle and quiet. The bottom of her pale blue gown with golden adornments slid along the ground just slightly, and her neck and shoulders showed bare due to hanging off the sides for where the sleeves began. Pale blonde hair with smooth waves were placed to one side, casting over her shoulder and torso while the rest fell down to her mid-back. With hands in her front, fingers interlocked, Cassia gave a slight curtsey before stepping up towards her father and positioning herself on the right of his frame. "Now, let us begin. Who are you?" Straight to the point. Cassia looked up from her father's hair and beneath the veil of some of her hair, her eyes catching the sight of a man forced down to his knees. She scanned him, curious on who he was and what had occurred; irises tracing the decorations embedded onto the flesh that she could see. Her eyes soon connected with his own as she awaited his answer, internally uncomfortable, yet growing partially numb due to the knowledge of what will happen if he does, indeed, lie. 6:42PM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: His head snapped to the side, his lip splitting with the force of the backhand. His eyes going wide at the mention of ‘Emperor.’ But it was the next exchange that made him wonder. “Who’d you send for? Torturer?” It was a reasonable guess, but wrong. He always imagined torturers as nameless cretins who did what they did because they enjoyed it. A flowery, honestly pretty, name like Cassias did not fit one such person. When the ‘Emperor’ asked if he was finished, clearly recognizing the silent threat in his words. Markon shrugged, causing the various chains attached to him to jingle in soft clinking sounds. “Not sure, yet. I want to see what the surprise is!” He rolled back to sit on his haunches. Honestly glad for the break in the chatter, at the very least it gave him less opportunity to do any more damage with his smart mouth. He had resigned to sit there until whatever was coming, came. But something touched his nose, and at the same time he heard someone mutter a quiet ‘ow!’ A guard had been trying to wipe something off of his sword and had nicked his thumb on the blade. Delicious… Intoxicating… Scarlet sustenance rolled down his hand and down the blade. Markon stood, the guards suddenly lowering their weapons at him while others grabbed onto the chains holding him. He took a step towards the guard, who was oblivious to the danger he was in. Another step and the guards were struggling to hold him back. The weight of five heavily armored men wasn’t enough to deter him. Two more steps and finally the other guards dropped their weapons and pulled him to the ground. His eyes starting to tinge red… He watched the guard with the nicked thumb until something… Strange happened. It was like a clear breeze of air swept through the throne room and Markon found himself shaking his head, the delirium of the blood gone from his mind as he looked around. The chains were held taunt and keeping him on his knees. His eyes caught the woman approaching the throne and the ‘Emperor.’ Now, if this was his torturer… He was a happy man. She was a sight to behold, hair like his that rolled off of her head in silken golden waves that caught the dancing firelight and shone like a million strands of the precious molten metal. Her skin more so the color of cream and it looked delicious, but it was her eyes that caught his attention. Locking on them as they gazed into his own. When the Emperor asked his question, he barely registered it and answered, almost on autopilot as he tried to figure out what was so captivating about these eyes… “Isn’t it obvious…? I’m the King of Galia…” 7:00PM 4/20/2018

Quinzy: With the spectacle of a ravaged man beginning to unfold, Arulius remaining silent throughout the ordeal, he internally calculated the response of the cretin's body language. 'Intriguing' was the word that crossed his mind. It was as if he was testing the shift of a man into a monster, watching the layers of mortality slip itself far from the mind, with eyes fading as if the vessels were slowly popping -filling white, glacier molds into swelled sights of war. While the soldiers surrounded him, trying to keep him contained and being sure to press him down and further into the ground, the disarray almost becoming too much, there did the doors open and suddenly all fell silent. Even more intriguing, was the behavior of what once was chaotic, turn into a hushed exterior. Like a switch had been flicked, or a chain had been pulled on a leash. Arulius did not remark on this, however, and simply carried on with his question once Cassia indeed stood by his side. He watched the beast watch her, and his response earned an intake of breath from Cassia herself. "Lie." As soon as the words fell from her lips did one of the soldiers take a blade from its sheath and force it down into his calf. The tip of the blade sliced right through, connecting into the red rug below and clanking against the marble beneath it. 7:12PM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: The sword plunging down into his leg made his fangs slight down past his lips as his eyes turned to, once again, a glowing crimson. He moved like lightning, his body turning to he could bite into the wrist that had held the sword. But the soldier had been expecting this and spun away from the man’s bite. His teeth snapped at the empty air as the chains were brought tighter to his body. Forcing him back down. It took time, several minutes, but when the red finally faded from his eyes. He was panting, looking at the offending sword as if it was the blades purpose entirely. His head slowly brought up and looked at the Emperor and his… Whatever she was. “You’re a tosspot.” He spit out. All vestige of good humor gone from his voice. They were obviously not opposed to chopping him to pieces, though at the moment they probably thought they could do it to him for all eternity and he would just heal. He was running dangerously low on blood. If he expended anymore… He’d probably kill a few people to fill himself to the brim. There was an internal struggle before he snarled out, “Markon! It’s… My name.. Is Markon.” 7:22PM 4/20/2018

Quinzy: Cassia could not hide her cringe. There, if anyone truly looked at her, would they catch her face resembling a look of absolute displeasure and sorrow. Her eye's glinted with the shine of liquid but she held it all back; hands scrunching into her skirts before trying to relax and hide her hatred of what was happening. She knew the result of trying to turn away, and she did not care for any reminder. The past of all the other occasions were still fresh in her mind, even if the bruises were long disregarded. Arulius still analyzed, watching the way the cretin's eyes blazed alight once more, his body turning to the source of his torment and trying to snap. His soldiers were far too quick and that jolt of anguish was dismissed; made him look all the more an animalistic fool. Uncaring of the damage before him, Arulius kept quiet, finally nodding when a proper response was handed out. "Truth." The clarification from his daughter was all he needed and with that he made a 'Hm', to which Janus jotted down this knowledge upon his scroll and with an ink tipped quill. "Who sent you?" Another question. The soldier kept the blade in his calf, hand held tightly upon the handle. If there was to be another lie, the second act would proceed. 7:30PM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: He detested the way these men looked at him. There was a time when he would have commanded men like these into battle! And now they looked at him with fear, disgust… But he had to keep his tongue. He could see that at the very least, Cassia had the decency to look ashamed… Not that he blamed her. Well, maybe a little bit. He had no doubt that he was forcing this woman to do whatever it was she was doing. He felt like her eyes were baring his soul, he had the evidence he needed. She could tell when he was lying or vice versa… So he needed to tell them just enough truth that he would escape harm… But not enough that it would reveal his own motives… With that in mind, he watched the sad little king on his sad little hill ask the next question. Blinking, he actually let out a laugh. “You actually think you’re important enough for someone to send me? Don’t be an idiot, ‘Emperor.’ No one sent me.” The fact was that it was truth for him would probably infuriate the Emperor. He smiled in that knowledge. 7:39PM 4/20/2018

Quinzy: The thoughts of Markon would be correct, as those within the hall did stare at him as if one was watching the unfolding of a wild animal -destructive, foul, and needing to be put down. While many placed on a show of confidence, internally many soldiers shook at the concept of him being let loose, or mishandled. The damage he would cause would be lethal. The soldier behind Markon was ready and anticipating the idea of turning the handle of the blade in his calf, only hoping he was asinine enough to test the Emperor's lack of heart. When Markon bellowed out his reply, it laced in the laughter of half-caught insanity, everyone turned to Cassia to judge the end result. Cassia just kept her eyes on the man, soon giving a side glance to her father as she took in a tender breath; her chest rising and lessening to a tensed fall. "Truth." Emperor Arulius remained rigid, however the twitch in his eye could not be tossed to the wind. At least, Cassia had noticed. She looked down to see the crunch of his hand curling around the arm rest of the throne, knuckles lightening to white before relaxing as if it never happened. Much like she would expect from her father, however, Arulius did not remark on it and only pressed the last question that burned on his tongue. "Why had you tried to invade the Avictus Villa?" Cassia looked back to the man; peculiar eyes watching his body language even though she did not need to do so to feel a lie when it was breathed. 7:48PM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: Markon missed the moment of his tiny victory, but he could feel the tension of everyone in the room. That, gave him some measure of pleasure at the very least. He wasn’t sure how the Emperor would take being called an insignificant tosspot, because that’s basically what just happened. So when he voiced his next question… Markon went still. He had been hoping that this one wouldn’t come up. The struggle was evident on his face as he contemplated lying… But he liked his leg. Attached. He liked it attached. To his body. So he looked up at the man and woman standing above him, and jerked his head towards the soldier holding the sword in his leg. “Have him take the sword out of my leg and I’ll tell you. No lies.” This was truth, he fully intended to tell the Emperor why he had came to the Villa. But he absolutely refused to do it with the damn sword in his leg! Besides… He slowly smiled at the man, saying. “You’ll get a lot more out of me with honey than you will with a sting…” Was what he said quietly. But not so much enough that it was inaudible. 8:11PM 4/20/2018

Quinzy: Arulius did not care for negotiation. He wanted answers, not compromise. This was not a time to be selecting his preferences and ideals. The Emperor looked to the soldier and nodded, but it was not a nod of removal. Instead, there did the hand of the blade come to twist into a circle, digging into the flesh and scrapping against bone. The action was slow and violent; torturous. You could hear the churn of flesh and muscle being torn apart. Cassia flinched and she placed her hand on her father's shoulder. "He is telling the truth." She tried to say it in a calm manner, but her voice released an audible shake. Arulius clicked his tongue before holding his palm up, stopping the soldier from his actions before turning to Cassia and looking directly into her eyes. "I did not request your interjection. You are too be silent unless instructed otherwise." Slowly did Cassia bring her hand back to her body, her eyes going downcast and figure turning slightly away in a withdrawn manner. Arulius looked back to the beast. "Why had you tried to invade the Avictus Villa?" His features were hard and cold. One could tell he cared not for anything except his own methods. He wanted answers, and he would get them just as he wished. 8:20PM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: He saw the Emperor nod and for a moment, he smiled as the soldier gripped the sword. He would be glad to have it remo----FUCK! He snarled and hissed at the sword twisting into his leg. His reaction was instant and powerful. His arms were too restrained for him to use them… But his upper body was stronger at least in instantaneous power than the men holding him back. His head dipped down, his eyes once again red and his fangs out as he snapped his fangs into the blade of the sword at its hilt. The attack was so vicious and sudden that the Soldier didn’t have time to react… And even if he did. It wasn’t aimed towards him. The blade of the sword snapped off, Markon held it in his teeth as he glared at the man and the Soldier answered to. His jaw clenched and the blade broke into several pieces, falling to the floor with Markon chewing over the ones still in his mouth before turning and blowing them into the face of the Soldier. His eyes were slowly turning away from their angry red and back to the cold yellow before he said. “Does it frighten you, ‘Emperor?” He said the title like it was something to scorn at. “You can cut into me all you want… But it takes but a single mistake for me to end the lives of your men or… You. I will tell you what you want. But if you have someone stick me with another sword… I think I’ll redecorate the windows with their blood.” It was a genuine threat. While he had serious doubts about being able to carry it out. He did know that before they were able to subdue him, he would be able to kill several men, possibly even get to the Emperor himself. He didn’t strike Markon as the man who would have great martial prowess. But either way, he rolled his shoulders back and looked down to his leg. Wincing at the damage he saw there. “I came here out of no foreign, or hostile interest other than my own.” His eyes slowly lifted towards the Emperor and whoever it was that stood beside him. “I am suffering, but no mundane method has been found to cure me. When I arrived in the city today, I heard whispers of remarkable men and women within this castle. One in particular. I was coming to seek her help. Though, your subjects made it clear that I would never make it within these walls by the asking. So I decided on different methods.” It was the truth, the only part he was omitting was the specific ‘who’ he had come to see. But to his own knowledge, none of what he said was a lie. 8:45PM 4/20/2018

Quinzy: The initial act of enforcing the sword deeper into his limb was not just purely for his own highlight of superiority and preference, but it was a test of this Markon's limits. Arulius wanted to see how far this beast would bend and what could be achieved of such, all the while obtaining information he deemed valuable to his knowledge and understanding. Soldiers jolted back, shocked at the rapid hit from this cretin's antics, and the catch of his canines coming to connect with the sword after his howl of hatred. The blade shattered. Clipping off bit by bit, as if porcelain slamming into solid ground, the blade turned to particles of broken steel before their eyes. Just with the use of this beasts' teeth. Arulius smirked. Cassia, however, felt her eyes go wide. She stared at the broken blade before them all, rendered silenced by the display of strength and carnage. Never had she seen such ferocity. What was this man? Her mind swept back to his words; focusing on the sensation of truth and how it lulled throughout her core in a gentle course of a wave. "Truth." Arulius nodded once Cassia spoke, and finally he looked to Janus, giving him a knowing glance as to detect if he had been jotting everything down accordingly. "A beast looking for a sense of submission. Well, why your longing desire may be to curve the display you have just provided, I do believe this quest of yours has taken an even more profitable outcome." Arulius brought his right hand up, allowing the sweep of his touch to caress his jaw in a pondering manner before looking to the man still in chains. The smirk of the Emperor burned in his gaze. "Return him to the dungeons." The statement ended with a wave of his hand and soldiers, while apprehensive, followed these orders dutifully. They swarmed him, coming in from all angles as to try to corner the beast, before dragging him to his feet and hauling him off. Back to the depths of darkness. Cassia looked back to scene, watching everything unfold; her mind still racing and her thoughts abundant. She was curious, far too curious. He spoke true at the end as well, so surely he does not mean such vicious outbursts? The blonde bit the inside of her cheek and then jumped slightly at the hearing of her father by her side. "You may return to whatever it was you had been doing prior. And Janus, Astardis is but two days away, do contact those necessary to keep everything in order. I do believe this cretin has found himself useful." At that final remark, Emperor Arulius Avictus II stood up from his throne and eased his way to another exit from the hall, navigating to attend to whatever it was that suddenly perked up and into thought. Janus departed soon after, and the soldiers all had left the room but three on each side. Cassia stood silent and still, having disregarded her father's words about her and her tending, and instead came to fold her fingers against the silken garment she wore. Something was about to happen, and she knew it would not be good. 9:13PM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: He didn’t respond to the Emperors words. While he had frightened a great many of the men with his show of power. It served a dual purpose beyond that. While one of the goals had been to get the man to back off of his leg, the other was to make an effort to convince them that he was dangerous no matter how injured he was. Despite that, as it was. He was having a difficult time with all of the damage he’d taken… So when the soldiers surrounded him, he gave some thought to giving themt he fight they so clearly expected… But in the end. He decided against it. The Emperors words echoed into his mind… ‘An even more profitable outcome.’ He couldn’t imagine that the oil-haired man meant profitable for Markon. So he went with the guards without a fight. Even relying a bit on the hands around his body to move. Say what you will about being Cursed as he was. A hole in your leg was a hole in your leg. Each step was agonizing as the pain flared up through him. So when he was shoved into his cell, he didn’t even argue the fact. Only limping over to the far wall from the door of the cell and pressing his back against it. The clicking of chains attaching to hooks and anchors on the wall was the last thing he heard from the guards as they closed the door and locked him inside. Once he was alone, he devoted his time to observing his own wound… He could have made a show of trying to attack one of the guards for their blood. Honestly, he was tempted. But the act of it would cause more damage than what he would probably be able to heal. The wound to his leg was bad, terrible. But the more pressing concern was what would be involved in getting more blood… There was very little reason to believe that when he fed, the victim would live through it. Sighing, he leaned back into the wall and considered his options… Rampage was an attraction, but it presented more problems than it solved. The same could be said with trying to sneak out of the Villa without healing, but by healing, he would become little more than an animal. Even if the majority of the Villa already thought that, he wouldn’t play party to them. The most viable option would be to wait and see if anyone came to see him alone or in a small group. He’d be able to feed from them, getting out of the cell wasn’t too large of a challenge. More so if he played the injured card… They wouldn’t get what they wanted because he was injured so badly. Hell, he could probably fool them into believing him to be dead and when they came in to check… Markon rolled his head on his shoulders and let his body fall forward, supported midway through the fall by the chains binding his form. For the moment… He’d rest. While sleep was unattainable… He could at least close his eyes and pretend to be asleep. Yeah, that’s a plan. 9:50PM 4/20/2018

Quinzy: An hour had gone past; the time sweeping down an hourglass before one could truly blink. Cassia had returned to her bed chambers shortly after the display she had been forced to participate in, which was never, truly, unusual. Since her father discovered her gift at the age of 7, she had to witness a few unfavorable acts. One would suppose she would be desensitized due to the rate of her exposure, however her soul just could not seem to adapt. One of the maidens of the house who was instructed to care for her since her mothers death, her statement to Cassia was that she was just a kind hearted soul, and filled with the knowledge of compassion. That Cassia understood the unjustification of an innocent, and could not bear to become 'accustomed' to their dishonorable treatment. Cassia was always sweet to the workers of the house as well, never addressing them as lesser or different than she would a house guest, and never calling them a slave. The title grew bitter on her tongue. From upon her bed, lounging across the wide expanse of its large creation, Cassia stared at the ceiling above. It was a sight to behold due to a hired painter from Pannonia, the realism etched as if she were witnesses just a moment of stillness between real beings. It was a depiction of the 12 main Gods and Goddesses; each one holding onto their known traits and talents. The right bright and full of light, while the left shifting into a midnight sky to represent Lunae and the others whom watched among the stars and favoured the lullaby which midnight delivered. Her mind, however, did not engage into the Gods, but strayed to that of the man she had witnessed in the throne room. He appeared normal, aside the bruises and punctures, but the flash of red eye and extension of fangs; the handsome face went rabid within seconds. Turning onto her stomach, her fingers fiddling with the corners of one of her pillows, Cassia thought back to how he stated he came here to, essentially, fix himself. The statement was also true. The corners of her lips turned downcast while her eyebrows furrowed, curious and thinking on whom in the villa would be able to apparently assist him. Her bleeding heart spilled through, wanting to help this man; help him locate the assistant he needed to hopefully turn him away from his struggles. After two minutes of this pondering, her heart racing in her chest, Cassia pushed up from her bed and soon removed herself from her area of residence. Her gown shifted as she moved, its flicker of blue like a reflection from the Golden Sea, and Cassia eased towards the kitchen. "Lady Cassia, do you wish for some nourishment?" The voice of one of the kitchen workers spoke up upon her entry into the room, and with this she glanced up, a warm smile blossoming upon her face. "Thank you, Amelia, I was hoping for an apple, actually, and some fresh Borgalius cheese." Amelia smiled in return, wiping her hands upon the stained apron before turning, always pleased to help the Lady of the villa. As soon as Amelia had turned, however, Cassia quickly snaked her way into the back and searched for something fresh. The man had jerked at the notion of blood, so maybe he needed raw nourishment? She was at a loss, but she wanted to try. Swiping a basket from under one of the nearby tables, Cassia located where some of the butcher kept his wares. Her nose scrunched up at the scent, and the overall look of what she had no choice but to see. Turning her head and grasping at a cloth, Cassia used it to lift the steak and then gently place it in the basket. Before Amelia returned, Cassia removed herself from the area, navigating towards the outside of the Villa. Just before she neared a door, however, the young woman used the knowledge of a secret passageway; soon seen but then vanishing in 'thin air'. It was a passage among stone, illuminated by blue flame that never died out, and only lit the halls in a dim glow. The passage to the dungeons was cut short via this method, as it did not lead straight through. Once she found the door to beyond the walls, Cassia eased into the outdoors, hiding among the bushes and shrubbery. She waited there, watching the guards until time ticked and they resorted their attention to some discussion. Tossing a rock from near her foot, the blonde shuffled their thoughts to elsewhere, using this allotted time to sneak past the doors and down the stone steps. Her heart seized for a moment, eyes adjusting to the atmosphere that appeared like night had fallen. The scent of the place was damp; like that of mold or moss among a swamp. How could people be allowed to reside in here? Her hand lingered along the wall, using it to guide her since a railing was not present, and if she stepped to far too the right, she'd fall between the cavernous drop of this spiraling staircase. Numerous doors were passing by her as she eased along the stairs, and each time she would peak in, casually looking to squint into the darkness and hopefully catch something familiar. However she could not see beyond the darkness of those rooms, and anything she did spot, did not appear like the disheveled man with a mop of golden tresses. A sigh fell from her lips as she hugged the basket to her chest, trying to keep quiet as to not arouse any suspicion from wandering guards. Her light foot along the steps proved useful. Passing about her sixteenth door, Cassia caught sight of a passage down to her left, one narrow and full of other doors. Stepping into the hall, it's atmosphere all the more dimply lit, only illuminated by a singular glowing torch, she whispered a little into the depths while passing by the second door. "Hello?" 11:07PM 4/20/2018

Vezrial: His ‘rest’ was not determined to last. He could hear the guards in the hallway talking and complaining. “So he’s dead then?” Said one gruff voice. There was the sound of a door opening and footsteps. “Oh yeah, he’s got a rat chewing on his eye… No one can sit still through that.” There was more groaning and complaining as, he assumed at least, they were carrying the man out of the cell. He watched as they passed by his door. One of them stopped to look at him, sneering at him in smug superiority. Simply because of the fact that he was free and Markon was chained to a wall. Several times over at that. He opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cuffed upside the head by the other guard. “Are you without sense?!” The unseen guard whispered. “That thing isn’t a man! It’s a /beast/ it’ll eat you if you aren’t careful.” There was a brief flash of fear through the guards eyes and he lowered his face away from the door. Markon didn’t need to say anything, but he kept his eyes on it. His stomach was saying hello to his spine and he could smell the blood on the corpse they carried. Moaning despite himself, he moved to walk towards the door. The chains across his body keeping him from doing so. They stretched taunt and one could make out the distinct sound of metal grinding in protest as the guards moved away, their footsteps moving faster. Once gone, Markon lowered himself to his knees again. Unable to stop himself from a small sniffle. He was /hungry/ and of course, he’d gone without food before… But being human. Going without food for a week or two was not comparable to the incessant pain of not feeding for a prolonged period… He didn’t like hurting people. But the desire to feed… It was strong. So powerful was it that it overrode his normal senses more often than not. He shut his eyes and concentrated on other things. Anything that distracted him from this. He thought about… Who he’d lost… Where he’d gone… What he’d done… It made his mood depressingly worse, but he was able to ignore the hunger… Until a small voice said. “Hello?” And his head snapped up. Fangs sliding past his lips as he realized… There was food on the other side of that door. He took a step forward, coming to a half-crouch as he prepared to leap for the door… His legs bunched together and he took the leap. Fully intending to crash through the door and feed on whoever was outside of it. But the chains, while he could break them individually. Grouped together, they were more than able to hold him back as he came crashing to the floor. The shock of it pulled him out of the frenzy he was entering and he lifted an arm over his eyes. Saying. “Go away… I don’t want to hurt you, but if you stay here. I might not have a choice.” His words were sincere in his fear for this person. He didn’t /want/ to hurt them. But if they came close to him… He might not be able to resist. 2:01AM 4/21/2018

Quinzy: The clanking of chains roused the otherwise silent atmosphere of this bleak and sorrow-filled place. Cassia stared at the door she had just gone past, glancing up to just make out the number etched above the locked structure; #24 scrawled into the wooden plack. Her chest raised from a slow inhale, eyes now just staring at the door itself, not daring to go closer due to the speed in which her heart raced. It was him, for that she knew due to the familiarity of his voice. Fingers bunched around the handle of the basket, it's texture digging into her skin and causing enough to leave an imprint on the pale flesh. "I..." She cleared her throat; a soft cough of sorts before going to speak once again. "I thought you might be hungry." Slowly did her hand soon slip beneath the surface of the cloth, the slick of the raw meat grazing her hands and tainting the flesh with cow's blood. Her heart was pounding in her chest but she seemed to ignore the disgust of the touching of such a fresh kill. Pulling it out from under the cloth, Cassia slid her way up to the door, her eyes just reaching enough to see through the opening and through the iron bars. The flicker of the torch's light provided an eerie glow, and bounced off of Cassia as if she were illuminating like a dull sparkfly. Not pushing further with her words, she pushed the meat up and slid her arm through the door, it's small size just allowing to almost her elbow. There did she flick her hand, tossing the meat as far as she could, and soon retracting her arm back to her side. Cassia wiped her bloodied digits onto the cloth to rid of the foul texture. "I apologize if it is not correct in what you need, I was unsure of what to truly supply." She fell silent after releasing that sentence, her back easing towards the wall, off to the left of the door. "How-" Her eyes drifted to the shadowed grounds beneath. "How do you feel?" 2:18AM 4/21/2018

Vezrial: ‘Hungry’ didn’t come close to what he was feeling right now. But he wished she would just leave. But it was her action next that made him slowly lean to a sitting position. Watching the pale arm slide through the bars of his cell door. He almost took a step forward. But his eyes were following the piece of dripping meat in her hand. While it wasn’t human, it did rouse his hunger. The act of throwing it into his cell made him shoot to his feet, his hand stretching out with lightning quick reflexes as he caught the meat. His fangs slid down past his lips and he opened his mouth. Ignoring the putrid smell of the meat as he sank his teeth into the meat and sucked it dry. It was good that they hadn’t frozen the meat or anything… It would have destroyed the blood content. But this was fresh and still bleeding. While the flavors were muted and dull compared to drinking from a human… It served as a much needed drop of water in the desert he was traversing. Despite the steak not giving him much in the way of blood… It was just enough for him to heal his leg. He watched as the hole in his leg sealed, becoming whole and healthy again. But his eyes glanced towards the doors and he walked forward, as far as his chains would let him go. His hand lifted and he tossed the meat through the opening, it’s color was grey and it was little more than jerky now. Completely drained of fluid. But his head tilted to the side and he asked. “Who are you? Why are you here?” Inwardly, he thought this might be some ploy of the Emperor. Sending someone down here to placate him and be a ‘friend’ who would then convince him to do things without having to be forced by the Emperor. More likely, attempt to be forced. 2:36AM 4/21/2018

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PostSubject: Re: A Royal Meeting of Blood    Thu Apr 26, 2018 2:10 am

Quinzy: Cassia heard the sound of raw hunger; the slap of meat connecting to a hand and it not even touching the ground. Inwardly she was quite relieved, as the idea of him 'eating' some of this meat once it hit the filthy floor made her feel awful on the inside. The room fell silent other than the sound of slurping, with gulps of each breath she took matching his own inhalation of the meal. It went stilled for a moment and she wondered what was to follow next with such silence, until the rustle of chains spilled over once more; their clank and pull from limbs moving catching her ears. Cassia jumped when something smacked to the ground before her, and she peered down, seeing the meat she had put in the cell. He did not eat it? She squinted at it, until finally absorbing what had happened. Ah, he drank the fluid within it. So it is not a matter of consuming meat as more so the blood laced inside it. A voice soon piped up close to her head, still ways away of course, but enough that she could hear him far more clearly than prior. His question made her realize he indeed had not seen her, or perhaps his memory was selective. Taking in a breather, the blonde navigated out from where she resided, standing in front of the door and looking through small window covered by five bars. She blinked, her indifferent eyes now locking onto those that she had seen in the throne room. While what she had given was not much, Cassia could see a noticeable difference. "My name is Cassia, and I thought you were hungry, so I brought you what I could." There was more, of course. "I also wish to apologize. My father is unreasonable in various manners, and I am sorry you had to go through what you did." She wanted to tell him he won't happen again, but she could not dare. For it most likely would. She wanted to say she could prevent it, but she was but a young girl in a man's world, and the fear from her father made her feel like a bird locked in a cage. She has felt the scorn of his hand and the bitter of his words, and while it was not as severe as what he endured, she knew the pain he could inflict. 2:53AM 4/21/2018

Vezrial: He halted for a moment. Thinking and considering… Now that he wasn’t held in some impossible situation where swords were being shoved into his body willy nilly… There was something familiar about the name Cassia… To buy himself time to think. He said. “You’re… His daughter… Which would make you a Princess…” The thought was on the tip of his tongue… He had come here looking for someone… The Flower. His body strained against the chains binding him and he did his best to get a look of the woman standing outside the cell. While there was much he could not see… What he could see, were those distinctive eyes. Two different colors, a cool sea blue and the other the color of Violet. Despite himself, he muttered under his breath. “Like the flower..” Everything clicked in his head then and the chains groaned further at the abuse as he struggled against them. Saying in an excited voice, “You’re The Flower! I came here to see /you/!” 3:01AM 4/21/2018

Quinzy: She stared at him with a perplexed look, watching as he remained silent until words fell from his mouth in chopped bits. Cassia tilted her head, curious as to what was going on in his mind, and partially wishing she could read minds versus dispel lies and truths. As he calculated and collected his thoughts, finally he looked back at her, his eyes staring into her own and soon he jolted forwards, the chains on his body keeping it back just enough. Cassia jumped a little, taking one step back before breathing in a steady manner, and responding with a look of confusion. "Me?" Why would he be coming to see her? As he mentioned the 'flower' a light smile graced her lips, remembering the times of the past when her father was far tenderer and that was the nickname he used. It had caught on to the public, and so they still called her such. Her father, on the other hand, hardly did now. "They call me Flower sometimes, yes." Her hands fiddled with that of the basket's handle once more, twisting and turning against it in her act of fidgeting. 3:10AM 4/21/2018

Vezrial: His mind raced quickly. This was his chance… He needed to gain her confidence. The easiest way would be to somehow feed her his blood… But if the rumors were true, his Corruption might very well rot her abilities away. Worse still, any help she might be able to give him. He stepped back into the cell and said. “Can you open the door? There is something I must have you know… I promise, I won’t harm you.” He wouldn’t either. Despite the fact that violence would be the easiest way to gain her assistance. He couldn’t run the risk of souring whatever help she could give him. Something deep inside of him said that if he were to gain her help in removing his curse… She would need to give that help willingly and of her own free will. 3:16AM 4/21/2018

Quinzy: Cassia watched the man, Markon, take a step backwards. What she could see began to fade slightly, his image shrouded by the layers of darkness that the shadow of these depths provided. At the moment of his voice lifting, the Emperor's daughter furrowed her brows, and then provided a slight frown. "I am sorry but I do not have the keys to these doors." Her teeth nibbled on the inside of her cheek, gnawing at the flesh just so she could feel her worries. Even if she had the keys, could she allow him to leave? Inside she was fearful; scared she would be caught. However, she understood this was beyond her, and not about her. Even though he may have beastly intent, it was beyond his own control in that state. Cassia allowed the flat of her palm upon her right hand to rest against the wooden door, her eyes closer to the 'window' of the frame, staring in as best as she could. 1:01AM 4/22/2018

Vezrial: He’d been hopeful, knowing it was a longshot… But he sighed. “I can’t help myself, Cassia was it?” He slowly sat down on the floor of his cell, his face aimed at the floor even though his eyes were staying locked on the door. “But if my suspicions are right… I’m either going to need to get out of here soon. Or I’ll need to feed…” A thought occurred to him that hadn’t before. He was a nigh-immortal warrior who could take an absurd amount of punishment. There had only been one time the past four years where he’d actually been taken down. He’d virtually been hacked to pieces by a group of bandits, when he woke up. Several days had passed, and he was absolutely starving… He knew that it had to be possible for him to die… But for everyone else... They might very well believe him to be immortal. He hesitated now. If he told her this, it would make it extraordinarily more difficult for him. But he nodded to no one in particular and said, “Alright… Cassia, outside the city. There’s a forest several acres wide, about two hundred paces past the nearest trees to the city walls. You’ll find a cedar with burn scars, I have a pack buried beneath its roots. Is there any way I could convince you to bring it to me?” He wasn’t sure what difference it would make in the end, but at the very least. He’d have a better chance than in the rags he called clothes right now. 7:47AM 4/23/2018

Quinzy: The top of Cassia's head illuminated beneath the glow of the torch's flame as its light danced along certain sections of the hallway that she inhabited. Like usual, her fingers folded portions of her gown, locking and interlocking between the soft fabric with her mind racing. As the voice of Markon drifted in her direction, muffled only partially due to the door between them, Cassia heard the mention of going out and retrieving something. With all due respect and of no insult, the response came simple, filled with curiosity and question: "Can you not get through the door yourself?" Given his strength displayed within the hall, Cassia wondered on how far it stretched. His teeth snapped steel, so how could he not have his arms push against wood? She took a step forwards, right before left, while the flat of her palm on the right hand rested against the wooden door with iron bars. 11:02PM 4/23/2018

Vezrial: He sighed, she was right of course. If he were at full strength, not so injured as he was, or hell. If he just had a moment of weakness from the guards… If he had the blood… HE could easily break out of here. But there was the outstanding issue. “Flower… Flower in an empire of misery… I draw my abilities from Blood. I drink of human blood and can heal myself, I can change my form. This isn’t a gift. Tis a curse.” The mention of what it truly was brought back painful memories. Memories he’d rather forget… “With how injured I am, I would be hard pressed to escape. I can’t even muster the strength to break these chains… Something that should be easy for me.” To emphasize this, he wrapped one of the chains binding his torso around the forearm of his right arm. A harsh groaning sound could be heard as he pulled savagely on it. The metal protested and dust fell from its anchor into the wall. But there was no discernable change in the metals integrity. After attempting for a moment, he sighed. “I’m a cursed creature Cassia. Do not pity me, I don’t deserve it. More likely, I don’t deserve your help. But if there is anything you can do… I’d value it and repay you in kind.” 4/24/2018

Quinzy: Perhaps it was the tender soul her Nan had spoke of upon her early years. The mark of this 'Flower' proved a heart made of petals; soft, kind, and fragile. One would expect her to remain resilient with the words of her Father in her ear, demanding her to not be blinded by the words and woes of a man more beast than mortal. However, everything he spoke did not trace her to be a lie. She did not feel any sense of malice, and the tingling sensation of a lie being spilled did not lick at her chest or ears. The flat of her palm leaned against the doorframe, her eyes peering into the darkness as best as she could, catching just the silhouette of his form shrouded by a canopy of ebony tones. "Human blood? Of whom would curse you so?" Her eyes blinked and brows furrowed, pondering on what could have happened to lead with such an end result. Yet, her mind flecked back to his mention of something by a tree, was it? Some shrubbery none too far off? She doubt she would be able to successfully make it beyond the walls without a guard spotting her, but perhaps she could gather the key? "Be patient. I will be back." Her voice ended in a whisper before she retracked in a step, gathering herself to guide back to the stone steps of before. Once upon a time her father had shown her these dungeons, and her elder brother, Caius, threatened to leave her here if she did not start obeying orders. Of course such threats were honest, and one day he did such a thing. It was with her own wit did she manage her way out, although clutching to terror in the start. How she did such was managing to locate the guards quarters near the South Wing of the dungeons -ones were they tended to leave keys scattered. Grasping a bundle of her attire near the bottom and having left the basket inside the hall, Cassia snaked her way through the dimply lit enclosure, her ears listening to hear whatever she could. Easing further down the stairs and soon off to her left, Cassia paused, hearing a cluster of footsteps. "What do you suppose crafted such a man to become so monsterous?" One voice interjected, speaking to the one they were with. "I would hardly call it a monster. Did you see it now? Weak and feeble; nothing without whatever it is needing to feed." Cassia tried to hold her gasp, realizing she had nowhere to turn to in order to conceal herself, so quickly did she begin to trail back to where she was before. Back inside the hall in front of Markon's door, her voice in a flurry from the stamina used, Cassia shuffled into one of the dark corners, hoping the shadows would hide her form since the voices were closing in. "--poke and prod?" There came some laughter. "Oioi, animal. Still alive?" Cassia's eyes went wide, seeing them clear as day none too far from her, down the hall, as she tried to blend further into the depths of the walls. The one guard clanked his knuckles against the door, his lips pulled up in a smirk towards the other who seemed to be finding it amusing. They exchanged some sort of look between them, mainly facing away from her, and soon did the sound of keys begin to clink. Were they about to open the door? 1:45AM 4/24/2018

Vezrial: No… No… Stop it! He clapped his hands over his ears to ignore the thumping. Great, loud drums played in his ears and he couldn’t ignore it. Short of stabbing his own eardrums out, he /heard/ them. The blood pumping through their veins, each breathe they took. The stink of grog on their breath, stale bread crumbs tumbling down their chainmail. One of them was bleeding… His nose caught the scent, taking in a great, big lungful of the sweet, sweet air. His eyes were red and glowing… He watched as one of them, the one that stunk like a bar. Take out keys and fumble with the lock. “He’s not so scary… I reckin we could haf some fun wit him!” The door pushed open and Markon shook his head, the red cleared from his eyes as he scooted back in his cell until his back hit the wall. His eyes were shut tight and he stopped breathing. Being what he was, air was not something he needed to survive. “Lookit em! He’s right scared!” The pair of them laughed and walked into the cell. HE wanted to shout ‘No! Run away! You’re going to get yourselves killed!’ But he knew if he opened his mouth, it would be to sink his fangs into their flesh. One of them was less than a foot away now… Reaching down to grab onto Markon’s hair. In our defense… It wasn’t the hair thing that set him off. It was the exposure of flesh. His hands snapped out towards the guard. His eyes completely red and glowing like two bright coals in the fire. The guard screamed as Markon yanked him against the wall and was on him in a second, tearing the chainmail from his body with a savage rip and opening his mouth. His fangs extended and his fellow grabbed onto Markon while shouting for help. Trying to hold him back, but it was like trying to hold back an elephant. Markon descended like a serpent and bit into the first ones neck. The rich, thick fluid tasted like the nectar of the gods! Markon drank his fill, tearing and ripping at the flesh to get more of the liquid. It was only a short minute before the man fell from Markons grasp, dead. The second guard, now fully aware of the danger he was in, scrambled back to try and get away. Running towards the door as fast as his oversized stupid head would let him. He got to the door and turned, looking at the princess. The world “Help” was the only thing that left his lips before Markon was on him. Several loud *SNAP* sounds could be heard as the chains holding him broke apart and fell to the ground. His arms reached around the mans chest and neck. Hauling him back into the room and snapping his neck to the side, plunging his fangs into him. It mirrored the first attack, drinking him until there was nothing but a husk remaining… HE dropped the body and walked towards the cell door. When a chain held him back now, he gave a yank with the limb it was on, it snapped easily. Walking out into the hall. He looked down the hallway towards the princess… His eyes were yellow. 5:23PM 4/24/2018

Quinzy: Blessed be the Gods for Cassia was one with the shadows at this moment. No guard spotted her, even in her garment that shinned with gold adornments. The cackle of their voices, however, made her grimace. It was the callous manner; the absolute disregard for emotion or feeling. As if the man beyond that wall was a toy they could play with. Cassia scowled and felt herself rising, about to push ahead and make them recognize their dismissive and wrong behavior. She was the Lady of the Avictus household, and that at least gave her some pull towards having people be held accountable for their actions. It was more ruled by the fear of Emperor Arulius' outcome if they dared denied some of what she did, and while it held a limit on how far she could reach, she new many did not bother to test such. Cassia lifted herself away from the wall, only upon one step forward there did the key click against the lock, and the door opened within a second. Chains rattled, as if a scramble was proceeding, and Cassia eased up to the door just after they dipped into the cell itself. "Don't you dare-" did she begin, only the rest that followed happened far too quick. Cassia stood there, frozen, her right hand outstretched into a half-reach from her daring to almost point, and her unusual eyes bore witness to savagery like she had almost never seen before. Blood splattered and mouths gurgled; a mixture of pain and outcry. While she felt they were by no means gentlemen, witnessing death on any account, for anyone, made her stomach churn inside out. Death was to be ruled by the Gods and the Gods alone. Thonoras and Hadus held those rights. The porcelain toned female backed up bit by bit, unable to look away, but still sliding backwards. She soon felt the wall connect with her body, and with the eyes of the guard upon her, recognizing her presence, his words were left to linger only on the ear in a partial cry. Quiet as ever was she, frozen at her feet, watching Markon evolve from what seemed such an animalistic display into that of regularity. He walked through the entrance of the opened door, and instead of crimson irises, she was greeted by the cast of gold. Cassia just stared at him, unable to process her sentences. 5:53PM 4/24/2018

Vezrial: She would easily be able to see the wounds on his form heal up, with surprising speed. The muscle and bones reknit themselves and within the span of a minute, he was whole again. He no longer looked gaunt and without food for some time. He looked whole, healthy and very close to her as he approached and knelt down. Looking her in the eye… Looking for… Something. Searching her multi-colored eyes he nodded and said. “I can see your fear, Lady Flower.” It was a simple sentence, but it held a measure of sorrow for him. “I’m sorry you had to witness all of that.” It was truth, he wanted her help. A bit beyond that, he was growing a tad bit fond of the small girl who seemed completely innocent to the ways of her father, the bloodshed, the torture, the torment. Oh, she knew about it. There was absolutely no doubt about that, what he also knew… Was that she didn’t partake in it whatsoever. He stood and held his hand out for her, if she took it. He would help her to a standing position and take several steps back. She would notice that his flesh was cold, without life. No pulse, no trace of the vibrancy that life that once touched his body. Slowly, he retreated back, keeping his eyes on her until he stood outside of his cell. Looking inside… He stood there for a moment, thinking. Finally, after what seemed like hours, to him at least. He made his decision and walked, willingly, into the cell and shut the door. Picking up the keys and pushing them through the small, barred slot near the top of the door. He said to her, lifting his voice so it would be loud enough for her to hear. “You’re a prisoner as much as I am here, Lady Flower. I am not a monster, though I play the part with increasing frequency. I will stay and be your friend, your confidant. If someone threatens you… I will have no trouble breaking free from my cell to aid you. I will protect you… This I swear with the Goddess Lunae as my witness…” In a quieter voice, though one that she could still conceivably hear… He said. “This time, I will keep to my oath…” 4:29AM 4/25/2018

Quinzy: The young Corviana maiden listened intently to his words; following along with the string of sentences he supplied and just stared into the shrouded darkness, only managing to catch the sight of his legs and the silhouette of his reclined figure. "Goddess Lunae cursed you?" She spoke more to herself, with her voice a soft lift upon the ears. After he completed his primary points, Cassia sighed lightly and allowed her hands to slip up and around the bars of the door. "I grieve for your misfortune and the harsh touch of the Goddess-" She began. "However, for someone to break the chains of torment, they need to separate themselves from the burden." Cassia meant it in all sincerity, for how can a someone wish to change when the purpose is still shrouded in self-consument and absorption. "Your words are kind, however, and you do not belong behind these bar-" Suddenly a gasp fell from her mouth and she jumped, her eyes turning to the end of the hall only to see four guards standing there, one immediately venturing towards her; his hand soon gripped around her free wrist. "Lady Cassia, you mustn't be in here! Away from this cretin!" Her eyes shot back to the door, watching as his silhouette faded and she almost tripped over her skirts while being dragged out of the hallway and towards the stairwell. "I heard two screams from before, where have the other men gone? What happened?!" Cassia fumbled over her sentences while trying to yank her wrist away. "N-Nothing, everything is fine! Do not take me to my father, I can walk myself!" His hand did not release, however, and instead the other two men shuffled towards the now closed door. One picked up the keys and stared into the cell, catching the sight of fallen men beyond the door. "Remove her, now!" The words were firm and deep from the third guard, and the first whom approached her did not respond, but simply continued to navigate up the steps and obey. Cassia watched the men grow smaller and the hallway be removed from her eyes, and before she was being brought into the outdoors, her mouth left the only thing she could think to say: "Don't hurt him! Leave him alone!" Even though she knew inside, it was they who needed the protection. 10:05PM 4/25/2018

Vezrial: When the guards started shouting at Cassia, Markon was to his feet in an instant. But it became quite clear that they were shouting out of concern for her safety. Whether inspired of true loyalty, the money they were paid or the fear they undoubtedly had of her father… He didn’t know. He almost growled, however, when she was bodily removed from the cellblock and the door was opened. A guard stood there, sword out and held low as he looked to Markon standing in a shallow pool of blood amidst two bodies. He took a step in, but Markon stopped him by holding up his hand and slowly letting his fangs extend past his lips. The man paled at their appearance and Markon bent over. Grasping the two dead bodies by their collars and throwing them past the door to fall across the guard, who, screaming in terror, backed away from the cell quickly. The man with the cold yellow eyes approached the door and grabbed it by the bars, yanking it closed as he said. “Don’t open these doors again unless you truly wish  to die. Those men thought themselves above me, when you are all lower than even were I sit.” The other guards scrambled forward and pushed the keys into the cells lock. Bolting it shut as they carried their dead from the hall. Markons cold, infuriatingly victorious laughter echoed after them. Haunting those three guards with the knowledge that Markon could escape at any time… Any time he wished. 12:55AM 4/26/2018
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