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* Plot Information for Hayll

Hayll has sought a suitable Queen to rule for years, but the one it has chosen has become the pawn of a manipulative Prince plotting genocide. While slaves fight for their lives in the Coliseum, Nero Augustus, Consul of Hayll, plunges the Territory towards war safely behind his puppet Queen.
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Author Topic: This Isn't My Night  (Read 109 times)

Description: Attn: Sophronia

Offline Cassica Laertes

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      Owner of Dream's End Tavern

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      Hayll

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      Gavin

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This Isn't My Night
« on: Aug 15, 17, 04:23:32 PM »
Spring 192 - Dream’s End Tavern, Draega. Late Evening, 1am


Cassica knew something was wrong the moment that the Warlord Prince walked into the bar.

Seven people immediately got up, threw their marks on the table and left without finishing their drinks.

A Warlord Prince entering a room, any room, was a cause for concern. They were volatile and likely to kill someone over the smallest slight, and that was long before alcohol came into the picture. She couldn’t ban an entire caste from her bar, but if she could, she would have chosen all but a single Warlord Prince to refuse service. Booze and bad tempers didn’t mix among the Blood. But the male had the swagger of an Aristo, one of the Hundred Families that the Black Widow despised. He had to be a Augustus. Or a Ferraro. Those two were the only families who walked into someone’s place of business like they owned it, even when they’d never set foot inside.

They were also the two who’d most recently threatened her because she refused to sell her tavern, despite the generous offers they’d made for the property.

The Warlord Prince was flanked by two Warlord and Cassica almost laughed at the idea of a Warlord Prince needing bodyguards, especially in a bar.  Cassica extended her senses, trying to get a feel for what she was dealing with. Her Summer Sky was powerful in its own right, though not as deep in the Abyss as some she could name. One of the Warlord wore the Rose, while the second wore the Yellow. The tense postures of both men, from the set of their shoulders to the way they kept their weight on the balls of their feet indicated that they could handle themselves in a fight...and that they were expecting one.

She turned her attentions to the Warlord Prince and found a singular blank space where he stood. She saw him clearly, but his strength in the Abyss didn’t register to her at all. Cassica’s heart rate quickened, just a little, as her eyes fell upon the Sapphire Jewel on the chain around his neck, partially hidden by the collar of his coat.

This is bad.

Good evening, Prince. Lords. It’s near closing time for me, but there’s another tavern just down the road if you’re looking for a drink.” she said.

The Warlord Prince turned his attention toward Cassica, as if seeing her for the first time.

We’re fine, thank you. I’m looking for the owner of this fine establishment.” he said. His words were polite, but there was no mistaking the cold expression in his golden eyes. He knew who the owner of this bar was. He also knew he was looking directly at her.

Cassica busied herself cleaning a glass, not wishing to provoke him or his companions. She could handle any one of them, maybe the two Warlords with some preparation. All three of them, especially with a Red in the mix, didn’t bode well for her continued survival. Keep them talking.

You’ve found her, Prince. I’m Cassica Laertes. Is there something I can help you with?

Lady Laertes, it’s good to meet you.” he said, taking a pair of steps toward the bar. “I know you said you’re closing, so I’ll be brief. I’m looking for Karlissa D’Maris. She’s been known to frequent this bar. I was hoping I could speak to her.” he said.

Cassica’s expression morphed into one of surprise. “Well, I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know that name. A lot of people come and go through my bar. I don’t know all of their names.” she said.

He nodded. “Fair enough. Are your employees available right now? I’d like to ask them, see what they remember.

I sent them all home a little bit ago. We’re closing, like I said.” she said.

The Warlord Prince took a step forward, while the pair of Warlords spread out. One blocked the path to the front door of the tavern, while the other cut off the avenue of escape to the backroom. The Warlord Prince remained before her, taking up her field of vision. They were splitting her attention, closing the noose around her.

He sat down at the bar. “I’d like a glass of Moesian white, please.” he said, taking out a roll of marks and tossing several on the bar.

I’m sorry, but I said I’m closed. I think you and your friends should leave.” Cassica said.

Lady D’Maris is a murderer and I’m going to find her. The only question is how many people I have to go through to get her. I’ve already gone through a few. Do you want to be next?” he asked.

If I were you, handsome, I’d walk out that door and forget about Karlissa d’Maris. That woman is trouble you don’t want. Or so I hear.

Calandra Peccaro learned the hard way about messing with Lady d’Maris. It would be a shame if you joined her.


The room grew colder, frost and ice covering the bar.

The Warlord Prince reached for her with reflexes akin to lightning.

Two bottles of rum leaped from the wall behind her. One smashed over the skull of the Rose Warlord on her right, and Cassica flung her arm out, calling Witchflame into existense right on the Warlord’s head before his shields assembled.

The alcohol ignited and the Warlord went down screaming, batting at his skull.

The second bottle of rum smashed into the Warlord Prince’s arm just as his hand closed around her throat. She tried to call another gout of flame to set him alight, but his fist struck like a hammer and that thought vanished. He squeezed and Cassica saw her breath as the Warlord Prince’s cold rage blossomed to life, coating the walls of her bar with ice.

Darkness clouded the edges of her vision as she fought, and failed, to draw breath. Anger swelled in her gut, but her body was already growing slower and weaker. She unsheathed her snaketooth, looking for any exposed and unshielded skin she could find to unload her venom sac into, but her enemy was shielded with power she couldn’t sense. She tried to take solace in the fact that the Warlord Prince might have dipped into his Red to keep her from slaying him outright.

She was still unhappy at the turn of events.

This is a shit way to die.

Offline Sophronia Ocella

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Re: This Isn't My Night
« Reply #1 on: Oct 11, 17, 08:47:24 PM »
While not the most popular of witches in Hayll’s Hourglasss, the prettiest poison made a point to maintain pleasant relations with any of her caste in Draega who showed her the same courtesy. About once a month she made a point of visiting Lady Laertes’ establishment as a sign of support and because her sister in Craft kept her kitchen run by a staff that could make a stew finer than the humble businesses’ facade might’ve suggested. Born to a family for whom hospitality was business, Sophronia appreciated the Summer Sky Jeweled Black Widow’s attention to the details that mattered - good fare, strong drink, and charming servers.

She and Cassica during these visits had gotten into the habit of sharing a bottle of something aged and strong before a fire after the Inn’s doors were closed to the public for the evening. It was something of a sit and bitch and the Senator appreciated being able to share frustrations over their Coven’s drama of the hour with a witch more grounded in reality than many of those who shared Sophie’s illustrious familial lineage.

Lady Ocella’s surprise was profound when she felt a sudden and dramatic drop in temperature. Ice crystallized across the mirror at which she’d been powdering her nose and a cold dread rose in her breast. With care, she pushed her senses outward and felt the air rush from her lungs as her mind found chaos, rage, a Warlord Prince and two Warlords all near or well past the Killing Edge. She wanted nothing more than to flee. However, her inability to pass herself through so much as a sheet meant that the only way out was across the battlefield which had bloomed in her friend’s establishment. 

Taking a deep breath she lowered a portion of her psychic shields to allow her scent to be permeated by the consuming terror that was doing its best to override all the Widow’s best senses. Instinct wanted her to run. Wisdom told her that acting like prey in a room full of predators in a conflict would lead to an inglorious end for the Senator. Instead, she allowed her aura to fill with all those emotions within her that would pull the instincts of a beastial warrior from offense into her protection. Sophronia didn’t have the time or resources that would’ve been ideal in a situation like the one she was about to walk into as a trembling lamb hoping that the lions at war would be driven by protocol’s urges to protect instead of baser urges to devour her trembling form.

Before she exited the powder room to enter the fray, the Senator let slip her tooth and drew it across the upper region of her forearm using the tooth whose poison she was immune to in order to spill the blood that would draw the attention of raging warriors from her and, she hoped, away from the friend whose rage, fear, and dimming psychic presence drove her in pursuit of the gambit that might make her a martyr for no good reason save potentially misplaced loyalty.

Instead of running towards the trouble as the matter’s urgency screamed she ought, Sophronia moved with gentle grace in purposeful steps towards the bar where dancing flames tossed strange shadows about the icy room. All the while her gaze focused upon the Warlord Prince with his hand upon Cass’s throat.

Prince,” she spoke softly though all she wanted to do was scream. Her voice wavered with fear and she continued even if his murderous gaze failed to turn her way and in spite of the hungry stares from the Warlords in his service. “Prince please, whatever brings you here this night. I promise it need not end in death.” Taking a deep breath, unable to bear the screams and scent of flesh alight, Sophronia called water from a basin behind the bar and turned it from ice back to liquid with the Yellow before using it to douse the flames that unchecked would’ve consumed the building.

Offline Cassica Laertes

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Re: This Isn't My Night
« Reply #2 on: Oct 17, 17, 10:51:04 PM »
The scent of blood stole the Warlord Prince’s attention from Black Widow trapped in his grasp.

Sophronia’s Craft immediately doused the flames on the head of the Rose Jeweled Warlord, dropping him in a heap on the floor. The scent of burning flesh filled Dream’s End Tavern quickly, causing the Yellow Warlord guarding the door to retch, falling to his hands and knees and trying to calm his now roiled stomach. The fire on the Sapphire Warlord Prince’s sleeve also winked out and Cassica’s eyes went wide, realizing that her own means of distracting the Warlord Prince was now gone.

He flung Cassica against the wall behind the bar, bottles of booze and glass shelves shattering as Cassica nearly went through the wall itself.  Cassica dropped to the floor and lay on the ground unmoving, Craft-infused spirits dripping over her prone body.

I’m afraid you’re wrong, Senator. This does have to end with someone dying. To start with, her.

The Sapphire Warlord Prince flicked his wrist and the area behind the bar grew alight with Witchflame. Cassica howled in agony as the flames sprung to life, fueled by the same alcohol she’d attempted to use against her attacker. Before Sophronia could turn her attention to her fellow Black Widow and friend, the Warlord Prince advanced on her, the scent of blood drawing him onward.

It’s a shame you’re here, Senator Ocella. Killing a Senator wasn’t on my to-do list. But I can’t leave any loose ends.” he said, reaching out and attempting to grasp her by the throat. If he was successful, he’d lift Sophronia off the floor in his vise-like grip. His grasp tightened at once, and then more, as he tried to choke the life from her as he would have done to Cassica before her intervention.

Black Widows are nothing but a pain in this ass.” he growled.

Sophronia saw it half a second before it happened.

The air behind the Warlord Prince shimmered and Cassica appeared, bloodied from several small cuts, but decidedly not burned. She unfurled the web and tossed it over the Warlord Prince’s face, then pulled it tight over his skin. He growled, dropping Sophronia to floor. He spun and lunged at Cassica but the bartender pushed out with a hint of her Summer Sky power, halting his forward momentum just enough to keep her out of his range. Another pulse of her Summer Sky and the web wrapped around the Warlord Prince’s head flared to life with an energy so dark that even Sophronia couldn’t sense it.

The web tightened around the Warlord Prince’s face, clinging to his skin.

An agonized scream tore from his lips.

The ululating was matched only by the frantic, desperate clawing of the male at his face and neck, trying something, anything to pull the web away from his skin. His fingers found no purchase. He stumbled, dropped to a knee, and gasped for breath. He tried to shield himself, but the web was already against his skin. Powered by the Ebon Gray, the web tore into the Warlord Prince’s barriers, rending them asunder while he fought to stay standing, stay conscious, stay breathing.

He kept screaming.

He screamed until his throat bled and his voice was raw. All at once, the struggle stopped. He fell face down on the floor of the tavern and didn’t move again.

Cassica held her injured arm and stared down at him without a trace of pity her golden eyes. Her illusion web was damaged and now she stood revealed in her true form, the golden skin and eyes of a Hayllian female. She walked over to a chair and dropped into it, trying to catch her breath.

She looked up at Sophronia.

You know, Senator, it’s usually a terrible idea to try bargaining with someone who’s here to kill you.” Cassica said, wincing as she tested her arm.

Fucker dislocated my shoulder. Gonna need some help getting it back in the socket.” Cassica said.

She looked at Sophronia expectantly.

Offline Jupiter Cinerus

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Re: This Isn't My Night
« Reply #3 on: Oct 18, 17, 10:44:28 PM »
Jupiter Cinerus was having a difficult night.

He’d not seen Caelissine in over a week, but not for lack of trying. Lady Sabine was bothered about something, something she refused to share with him. Jupiter’s relationship with his Queen was a constant source of frustration in his life. Whenever they talked about politics or family, they found a strange equilibrium, a harmony that allowed them to enjoy each other’s company as a Queen and a her bonded male, rather than just the Queen of Hayll and a member of her First Circle. Yet whenever Jupiter tried to speak to her, tried to counsel her towards action that would truly improve their homeland, Sabine turned cold and pushed him away.

She refused to discuss her reasoning for having the Eyrien ambassadors slain in the Coliseum. She wouldn’t discuss the lack of response toward the uprising in Faro. Every time Jupiter thought they were getting somewhere, Sabine found something shiny to focus on, leaving Jupiter tense and angry.

Such was his mood tonight.

Sabine dismissed Jupiter and the Warlord Prince left the palace, choosing to enjoy his personal time elsewhere. He wanted to find Caelissine drown his sorrows by sheathing himself in her, but the Priestess had her own life to attend to. Jupiter would not come to her temple expecting access to her body. He needed to exercise control over his own life. So it was that he found himself several streets over and headed to the other place in Draega where he had friends that hadn’t served with him in Praetorian Guard.

Jupiter approached the door to Dream’s End Tavern, but his steps slowed as he drew closer. The scent of burning flesh assaulted him as he arrived. Jupiter shielded himself and extended his senses toward the bar, feeling the myriad layers of Black Widow webs lined throughout the building. Jupiter had teased Cassica more than once about her paranoia, but the Black Widow always laughed it off.

My webs have saved my life more than once, my dear Prince. I’ll keep my own council on how much is too much.

There were four people inside of the building. Cassica usually closed up around this time, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t in residence. He conjured his longsword, Dominion, and opened the front door.

The smell of burning flesh struck him like a physical blow, followed by the smell of...vomit?

He found the Yellow Jeweled Warlord lying in pool of his own illness.

The back of the bar, with all of the wondeful Craft-infused wines he liked, lay in ruins. Smoke wafted from beneath the counter. Jupiter stepped inside, sword held to his side as he viewed the lone occupants capable of speech.

Cassica sat in a chair, her right arm hanging useless at her side. Her body was a collage of broken glass, blood, and cuts. The scent of blood from Cassica and the other female drew Jupiter across the room toward them. The urge to defend them, to keep them safe from all harm and intruders moved to the forefront of Jupiter’s mind and now he scanned the area for any other attackers. Finding none, he stopped a few feet away from both Black Widows and looked them over. He noted the other woman’s cut and immediately offered her his violet pocket square. Watching her a moment, Jupiter realized that he knew her.

Senator Ocella? Lady Cassica? What happened here…?

Jupiter’s eyes landed on the body lying on the floor. His eyes were drawn to the man’s silver signet ring on his right ring finger, one that Jupiter knew before he knelt to examine it. When he did, he cursed aloud.

His looked at Cassica and the young Senator.

Senator Ocella, my name is Jupiter Cinerus, but that’s not what’s important here. Do either of you know who this man is?” he asked.

Cassica glared. “He tried to kill me, so he’s the man who got what he deserved.”

No, Cassica. This is Faustus Quintus Orsini, current eldest child and scion of the Orisini family, son of Senator Cosimo Orsini.” Jupiter said, trying to keep the distaste from his tone. He reached down, pressing two fingers to Faustus’s neck. His pulse was thready, but there. He was alive, but barely.

He’s a brute and an animal. He’s also an enforcer if you can meet his price.” Jupiter said.

How did he come to be here?” Jupiter asked, looking between both women.

Cassica half-shrugged and Jupiter narrowed his eyes.

He looked to the Senator, wondering if she had any information about all of this.