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Board's Plot: Blood Rites
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Established February 2010
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Recent Posts

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1
Jade Ramsey never went anywhere by herself. A Queen never moved around a city without people noticing, and Jade's normal posse was hard to miss. So along with the few friends she wanted to spend time with, there needed to be ample security to ensure that both the young Queen and her associates moved about unmolested. Creston Ramsey took no chances with his beloved daughter's safety, and this usually meant that Jade traveled in the core of a group of people stout enough that she was unseen from outside of it. When she made these impromptu trips to the docks to take one of the family's boats out, it looked rather like a swarm of burly businessmen making their way down the pier instead of a young woman and her girlfriends.
 
They'd just come back to port, the group of them, and Jade was lingering on the pier, on Jensen's arm, laughing about something one of the girls had said. The Warlord Prince at her side was a more somber man than Jade but was nonetheless enjoying the fair day at the side of his Queen, even if it wasn't entirely obvious to outsiders. There was something odd in the way that Jade's laughter trailed off, though, and Jensen looked down at her, then followed her gaze out towards the docks at large. There, a bloodied man stalked towards the group with purpose in his gait.
 
"Get back on the boat," Jensen said sternly, psychic threads firing off at once to the rest of the security detail that was present. He pushed Jade aside into the arms of another guard, and began to  pull the men forward to form a barrier between the women and the oncoming stranger.
 
"Jensen, wait," Jade said, even as she was being pulled to the side, back towards the boat. She wasn't even sure herself what she wanted him to wait for; she could tell from where she was that it was a Warlord Prince approaching, and an unfamiliar and agitated Warlord Prince was nothing to take lightly. What's more, Jensen was about to also be an agitated Warlord Prince, and even Jade knew better than to play with that fire. But something pulled hard at the Queen. Something made her fight against the hands that normally moved her about without objection. She could see the stranger approaching in just bits and glimpses, until a pair of shoulders parted just so, and she locked eyes with Ilir from a distance.
 
For a few seconds, the world felt to Jade as though it stopped moving. The voices around her dulled, the people blurred. All she could see was the man approaching, the man who somehow felt as though she knew him already, as impossible as that was. It was the strangest feeling, as though he'd just returned after along absence, despite the fact that he'd never been there to leave in the first place. She reached for Jensen's sleeve and grabbed it, anchored herself to him.
 
"It's alright," she told him, clearly, despite the fact that she couldn't take her eyes off of the stranger. "Jensen, it's alright." Even then, guards were moving forward to intercept Ilir's path. They didn't hear what Jensen did, standing at Jade's side: "He's mine."
 
"What?" Jensen asked, harder than he meant to, looking down at Jade as though she'd called him the wrong name. Still, Jade couldn't look at him. She couldn't stop looking at Ilir. A smile began to toy with the edges of her lips, the urge to celebrate already creeping in around the tension of the moment.
 
"You heard me. Tell them to stand down, Jensen."
 
It almost physically pained the Warlord Prince to not stop her as she stepped forward. The quartet of men in front of her had stopped advancing, but they formed a staggered shield of bodies before her. Her hand brushed over each of their sleeves as she stepped through them, though she was careful to only come even with the front of them and no further. Their shields bound her several times over, and she knew those would have to come down. For the moment, though, she let them remain, and let all the males present acclimate to the fact that Ilir was being allowed to walk right up to her.
 
Jade eyed him, green eyes sweeping with interest over every detail of his face, his bearing, his state. When he stopped, if he didn't speak right away, she'd cock a lopsided smile onto her lips.
 
"Well, hello."
2
Keep's Registry / Re: Corvo Anansi
« Last post by Dash on Today at 03:55:06 PM »
Added to the que.
3
Keep's Registry / Re: Sirrah al-Tair
« Last post by Dash on Today at 03:53:39 PM »
Added to the que
4
Little Terreille / Re: Jade Ramsey
« Last post by Dash on Today at 03:49:20 PM »
5
Chaillot / Re: been scared of crowded places
« Last post by Felicite Veilleux on Today at 03:45:29 PM »
"I think..." she began, eyes narrowing in some thought before she continued. "They try to liken it to a healing place of sorts. A helpful facility, but..." Fel drifted off with a frown, shaking her head and trying to ignore the ache in her chest and the way her hands wrung together in frustration as she thought of how much warmth the Dark Haven had stripped Senja of already. "It's not. You don't... put collars on people like they're wild animals, you don't... take away something that they were inherently given by the deity you all believe in and call that helping them. It's not."

"Well, that makes two of us then, Madame D'omeil," Fel agreed with a soft laugh regarding the lack of formality. Even by Landen standards she was hardly fussed about being proper and formal. If she had been she would've followed in her parents' footsteps instead. And yet, here she was in quite the opposite direction. "I know some things. I've read about it in books. Your Blood Law and Protocol is very different. Some of it very unusual and convoluted." She didn't really care for it, honestly. Especially if it allowed for their own people to be so grossly mistreated - what kind of law and society was that to live in?

"A Queen..." This brought a more bright smile to Felicite's face and it made sense to her. Though Juliette was a stark contrast to her Senja in the way she carried herself, she spoke with very similar conviction and passion. Yes... Queen was befitting for the artist in front of her. "You are not the first I've encountered. That's who I visit here, in fact. I think you'd like her; and vice versa."

When the question was turned around onto Felicite herself, she blinked a few times while she went about formulating an answer. "A scientist. An inventor. I work for the Graves Institute, if you've heard of it? Landen-operated, we consider ourselves the brightest minds in the Territory, coming together to forward our own peoples' advances in terms of different sciences and technology," she explained proudly. Naturally, she couldn't get into too many details as there were various patents and confidentiality clauses that she didn't dare breach, but it was a decent overview, in her opinion.
6
Pruul / Re: If You Are Afraid, Give More
« Last post by Nayarreh al-Sabbah on Today at 03:45:25 PM »
Barin al-Sabbah
[/url]





Barin eyed the other witch, the one with short hair and a muscular build, with narrowed eyes. The shorter one wore the Purple Dusk, but this one outranked him. He took a step towards Yari as she spoke, wanting to be close enough to fling himself in front of the younger boy if needed. His fists clenched at his sides as she reached into a bag and pulled out sticks of meat.

The scent of the cooked flesh and fat reached his nose and his stomach rumbled audibly. He heard Yari whimper, surely just as hungry as Barin was. Anger curled in the pit of Barin’s stomach. “Why are you trying to poison us. Do you think we’re idiots as well as filth? Don’t think I don’t know how your kind are trying to poison us like rats? Two of us have already gone down that way, you fuckers. But of course, no Price was demanded for that!”

His anger rose up to give his body strength. The ache in his belly was filled with it, and it lit his dark eyes with an inner fire. “Fuck off before I make you leave. Your charity is neither needed or wanted.” He spat.


-------------------------

Naya felt her heart grow heavy as the bigger of the two boys responded to the offer of help with all the anger and passion that only a young Warlord Prince still coming into his power could. She did not let that sorrow show on her face though, instead, she reached for one of the two sticks that Elham held and took one. Eyes fixed on Barin she took a bite, chewed, swallowed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the younger one pull his knees to his chest and whimper, and her arms physically ached with the desire to run to this little boy and hold him. Instead, she stepped forward. He growled under his breath, and Naya stopped until the noise did, then stepped once more, like she used to do with feral cats as a girl. Finally, holding one of the sticks forward, she got to within arm’s length, projecting her psychic scent out more strongly than usual.

Calm, it said. Harmless, it said.

“My mother was Geiba,” Naya said, voice low, “she died that day too. I want to help you, Barin, because I’m one of you. It’s not poisoned. I’ll eat a whole one of these and wait here for an hour to prove it if you’d like.”

He was looking at her with a little less anger and more nervous apprehension now, his knees straightening to a more comfortable position.

“Why are you here?” He asked. Behind him, the younger child stood up, walking closer but staying behind his friend. “I don’t want your pity.”
7
Shalador / Re: There's More Than One Side To A Story
« Last post by Itzelian Maboya on Today at 03:38:29 PM »
Okay, Izzy had totally expected Nova to slam the door in her face when she opened it because...well...okay, because she was the daughter of Rian, and...guilty by association? Wasn’t that how it worked?

So when Nova DIDN’T tell Izzy to go away (and better yet, didn’t blast her with some sort of Ebon Gray spell), Itzelian forced herself to exhale and follow the other Queen into her quarters, with her wings pressed so tight against her spine it almost hurt. She looked around the sparse room, with its white walls and polished wood, and didn’t like it. It felt too...clean. Unused. She lived here? Belated, Izzy realized that no, Nova did not live here, that this room was just a temporary place because...well...did she even have a home to go to anymore?

Did any of them? With the volcanoes destroying so much of Shalador?

Rotating her shoulders to shrug off her unease, Itzelian followed Nova towards the little sitting area, sitting down as tensely as humanely possible, even though she was really trying not to look so scared. And Nova didn’t sit, which was weird to Izzy.

She really should have thought this through. What if someone else saw her here? What if someone attacked her here? What if Nova decided that, since she couldn’t attack Rian, she was going to do something awful to Izzy instead? No, Izzy really hadn’t thought this through at all. She had just acted because...well, because it SEEMED like a good idea at the time and she really wanted to know Nova’s side of the story and…

"So," Nova said finally, and she sounded just as awkward as Izzy felt. "Hi. How're you."

The simplicity of that question, the casualness it implied made Izzy laugh once, a sound that was hysterical and quickly contained by Itzelian slapping her hand across her mouth. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I uh...I wasn’t laughing at you. Really, I wasn’t. I was...well...it’s really silly for me and you to be here and...I mean, given what happened between you and my mother. I thought...the way you asked it...sounded so...normal.”

Aaand she was babbling. Great. Itzelian clenched her fists, squared her shoulders, and boldly offered Nova her hand. “Hi, I’m Itzelian Maboya, in case you didn’t already know. And um...you can call me Izzy.” If Nova took her hand, she would give it a firm shake once, and if she didn’t, eventually Izzy would awkwardly retract her hand, unsure of her welcome.

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” she admitted. “I know…” An exhalation of breath as she tried to figure out adult words for complicated things. “I know we don’t really know each other and there’s...there’s a LOT of bad blood between you and my mother but...she’s d-dead and I’m...I’m not her.”

Those last three words were said with such innocence and sincerity that it didn’t take any sort of Craft to tell if Izzy was lying. She wasn’t her mother and would either never be her or didn’t want to be her, depending on the day. She had been given shoes too big to fill too young and was struggling now to walk on her own.

“So, um...I understand if you don’t want to talk to me. I mean, I won’t be mad,” Izzy went on to say. “But I’d...I’d like it if you did because...well…”

She paused to take a steadying breath before admitting, “I don’t think you’re really a traitor. I mean, maybe you are, but...maybe you did it for the right reasons. There’s two sides to a coin, right? And neither side of the coin is the right side, right? It’s just a coin. And...I don’t...I think...Okay, I’m not making sense, I’m sorry, but yeah, I’m here because I don’t really think you’re a traitor but I just...don’t know why.” That was the crux of it: Izzy believed that Nova was innocent but had absolutely no proof except that feeling.
8
Dena Nehele / Re: Sydney Concord
« Last post by Dash on Today at 03:22:21 PM »
9
Keep's Registry / Re: Corvo Anansi
« Last post by Corvo Anansi on Today at 03:15:09 PM »
Ready for Review
10
Shalador / Re: There's More Than One Side To A Story
« Last post by Nova Marzena on Today at 03:13:47 PM »
There was no Nenetl, no Rian, on the other side of the door. There was, however, a rather confused-looking Queen, and this was Nova Marzena, hated traitor. Her green-flecked eyes took in the young woman before her, ticking over wings and dark hair and down to Itzelian's face. There was a spark of recognition there, Nova's freckles shading more stark as she paled. "Um," said Nova Marzena, whose hair curled around her cheekbones, still damp from the shower.

It wasn't that Nova held any particular ill-will towards Itzelian Maboya, personally speaking. Personally speaking, Nova held vague soraral feelings feelings towards her, as she did towards most any Queen of Shalador. They felt called to the same land, did they not? Their hearts beat the same rhythms, the fire dance of their people, shouldn't they? But that was before Nova was a traitor, and before Rian Maboya had made it clear (to Nova, at least) that she had no desire to serve as anything but the ruler of the Territory she purported to hold in trust for the next generation. It was before Nova had turned the tables on Rian Maboya's bitch ass and revealed who the real traitor was, who exactly had hamstrung the Territory from the day she'd first written to the Geiba monsters. They could have been serving under a Black-Jeweled Priestess Queen, untouchable and mighty, for decades. Instead, there was a petty bitch in her place.

Nova did not particularly want to go into this with Itzelian Maboya. She was pretty sure that if anything happened to Itzelian Maboya while she was in the presence of Nova Marzena, Nova Marzena was going to fucking die. She'd already suffered enough on account of Rian Maboya. She definitely did not want to proceed with suffering some more. Contrary to how it might look, due to where she was and what she was actually doing, Nova didn't really particularly enjoy suffering. The Darkness just kind of kept giving it to her, like a first-night gift passed around for eternity.

She also could not risk refusing Itzelian, so in the end, Nova's mouth produced the right words, something along the lines of well, come in then, and she stepped back to let Itzelian in.

Nova's quarters were not very personal. They were made for diplomats, for temporary residence, and they looked that way. The floor was a warm wood and the walls were whitewashed and empty. Nova hadn't unpacked; there was a traveler's trunk, beaten-up and unadorned, shoved against a wall near the couch. Yet it was Shalador, which was good enough, and she could look outside and see the trees. It was good enough.

She gestured to the couch, kind of awkwardly, but didn't sit herself.

"So," she said finally, "Hi. How're you."
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