Mini Event your red eye sees no blame
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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#1
Amalia
she was afraid of heights
Revolution. It feels too early to call it that, as though by naming the thing they are doing they give more power to the thing they resist. Instead she thinks of it as resistance, or if she truly feels like deceiving herself, a gathering of minds. Anxiety pulls like leeches at her blood, tears against her sinew, flounders through her mind, and if she looks too close she will fall apart, dissolve into a million pieces of terror and doubt and fury and dismay.

The girl was not built for a world like this: wide and wily, betrayals and sedition, where friendship may change at a moment's note. So for now she ignores it and goes about her day, tries to play at normalcy while waiting for the night. Start the bake; change the loaves; make deliveries; clean the shop. If she follows the rituals she will not fall apart, will not fray at the seams and come entirely undone.

And then, at last, it is night, and she can no longer ignore the danger she faces, the thing that she has built. So she descends to the cellar, the little door half-hidden behind a bush of lavender, and begins to set up for their revolution gathering of the minds. In true Chandrakant fashion this somehow entails cutting up four loaves of bread, setting out two jars of jams, pulling a bag of jerky from from storage, and boiling a pot of tea.

And then she sits, the mug in her fists, alone in a corner, waiting.



Welcome to the Resistance! You have 48 hours from the time this thread went up to reply with your character arriving. After that Amalia will call the meeting to order. If your character has anything in particular they want on the agenda please have them mention it to her as they arrive. You're welcome to join in after Amalia's second post, I just want to get the ball rolling!
but she was much more afraid
of never flying
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#2
DEIMOS
Defiance was a ready tattoo in his chest, pulsing and pounding with the beat of his molten, seditious heart: resist, resist, resist. It was a seed planted in his brain the day he was born, growing its nefarious thorns and irreverent entanglements day by day, month by month, year by year, until his experiences combined into muted stories from other worlds, until glacial walls became all the more familiar, home, until the godless manifestations crooned and crawled their way into his existence. It bloomed and blossomed here too, feral and savage, wild and untamed, a bough, a bramble, sticking its nettles through his mind, sweeping the turns and centuries away from ancient wars and destitute miseries, shaping, creating, manifesting. He’d kept his head down long enough, intonated repose and composure in the fire and flames, until finally, they seemed to relish restlessly down the length of his form, and the shambles of swordplay rang and beat against his brain.

The hollowed, midnight oils and shadows covered his figure, required no cloak on the memorized path, roaming the streets as if it were a customary procedure: wander, wander, wander, until he saw the bakery’s lights, little beacons and drawbridges, coaxing them in from the dusk and twilight. The beast made no hesitation in his steps, just as nefarious, just as seditious, as the molten creeds stored within his undying wake: lingering along the threshold until he came to the half-door hidden by clumps of lavender (stifled his chuckle; the flowers of revolution had apparently already started with him), before bending, crawling through the makeshift aperture. He was silent and certain, and ensured both opening and closing of the entry was quiet, hushed, and when he glanced into the familiar basement (only before it had been littered with debris and stone golems), he raised his piercing gaze to the baker, in the corner, mug in hand.

“Amalia,” he presided, straightening out to his full height, glancing over at her, measures of minatory, but likely anxious, prowess, tilting his head at the rest of the wares she’d laden. “Do you need help with anything?” Are you ready? was the next inquiry on his lips, but kept it to himself, assisting with whatever she required, stalwart and disastrous, hand clenching over one of hers in a tight squeeze, before grabbing a seat, claiming his position at her side. They would come, and then the world would fall together. Or they’d crumble amongst themselves, too irreverent with one another to ever impart more than petty games and schemes.

But they had to try.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 11 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 40
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
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#3
After the gathering at the notice board Jigano had gone home. Not to a place, to four walls and a roof and a door, no. Nowhere that could have an address or a number, no building or structure locked in position, unmoved and unmoving. No, the fox's home was warm blue eyes and gentle hands, fierce lips and strong arms that laced around him, giving his universe a center, giving him a place to belong.

Giving him a place to return to, like a lodestone always finding north again.

He had shared the day's events with a quiet intensity, worry in his eyes and tension in his hands as Isuma had curled up quietly in his lap and purred to calm him. He had shared, too, Amalia's invitation to a little... chat between friends. An evening of Chandrakant hospitality. A seditious act against an unwanted tyrant.

And that night he had stayed at the farm, knowing better than to leave either of them alone to the mercies of their own minds.

He didn't return to the settlement until afternoon of the next day, hardly unusual, and he had stopped by the Guild to look through more of the oldest records for signs of the Blight in the Greatwood... and to drop a quiet invitation in the mind of his Attuned colleague there. And there he had waited, until Rory came to fetch him so the pair could stroll over to the bakery for dinner, and to tease their little sister over a cup or two of tea.

Only instead of sitting down inside the bakery itself they passed through it, into the garden behind, through a little door behind the lavender, and down the steps. For a moment it was, in fact, just a family chat; their odd little, wonderful little found family, coming together for a few moments of comfort. Jigano nodded to both of their hosts with a wry smile, leaving the seat beside Amalia free for Rory, if the hunter wanted it, and instead taking the next one over. "The bread smells delicious," he murmured politely as he fixed himself a small meal from the proffered victuals.
Ronin Taliesin
the Dark Star
Monster Hunter

Age: 27 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 7 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 30
SUGAR - Mythical - Dragon (ice breath)
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#4
everything has its wonders
Ronin joined the group quietly, as though he had stumbled on the gathering by accident, but his nod at those there already was warm and decisive.

They were here for a reason, and whilst this certainly wasn’t his first discussion in criticising a regime, this was the first time he’d done it underground in a bakery. Preferring to stand rather than sit, the hunter smiled to Amalia in particular, gesturing to the spread she had laid out.

”A hungry rebellion is an ineffective one. Good call,” he said, his tone light and good humoured and not at all expected in a meeting like this.
even darkness and silence


Coding base by Sky!
Remi Taliesin
Alchemist
Portal Guardian
Age: 24 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 31
ISLA - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#5
bring back the water
"Yes, let the blind man navigate the stairs himself." Remi grumbled with a laugh somewhere behind Ronin. Clunkily Remi managed his way into the basement. Despite the strains of grey that the world had melded into, new places were particularly hard for Remi to see. However as he glanced around, he was pleasantly surprised to see Amalia radiating a soft and colouful aura that let him see her quite clearly. With a boyish smile and a mental pulse of support and affection, Remi narrowed his eyes to try and squint through the darkness to see who else was in attendance. Deimos had a faint outline, and Rory even moreso. Jigano, shockingly, was in more colour than the other two men (except Ronin of course), which made the alchemist pause. Nodding to each of them in turn, Remi decided to leave the pondering of his new-sight to a later time.

Winking at Amalia before taking up a place leaning casually against the wall next to Ronin, the alchemist folded his arms comfortably across his chest. "Isla is outside. She will let me know if any of the Launceleyns come around." Was it likely? Of course not. But then again given the extent of Zariah's background when it came to leadership and torture, at this point Remi wouldn't put anything past her.
let the ships roll in

Coding base by Sky!
Speaks with an Italian accent.

Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Let me know if you want to kill him and we can chat.

Magical Items for sale in the wagon: Drinkable Sea-Cup | A cup that transmutes saltwater from the ocean into drinking water. Works one-cup at a time. Full-Smokes | A packet of cigarettes, where each cigarette when smoked counts as a full meal. Clawed-Ring | A ring that when used created claws on the wearer's hand.
Nathaniel Sterling
Hunter

Age: 30 | Height: 6'3" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 14 - Dext: 9 - Endr: 16 - Luck: 6
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#6
There was a familiar ringing in his ears.

For years, Nathaniel had thoroughly convinced himself he left this kind of anger far behind. As if he'd outgrown its reach, or discarded it for a better-fitting emotion. But here it was again, kicking and thrumming in his chest, crawling out through every blood vessel, every nerve ending, a building roar. He hadn't been this angry in a long time, and the anger itself had spent that time waiting, growing, building, becoming something vast and terrible all on its own.

He sort of wanted to roam the streets until he found the first Launcelyn he could and then do them the favor of introducing their teeth to the back of their throat. If it was the ill-appointed queen, so much the better. If it was someone else, someone who just happened to sort of like her... Fine, whatever. He felt like a rabid dog locked in a cage. Chewing the bars until his gums bled. He wanted to break something. He wanted to set fire to the nearest wooden structure.

He was probably lucky, in this case, that his only magical ability involved mending flesh rather than breaking it.

But he was full of an emotion like static, black and noisome, as he left the cabin behind. The cabin, and the dog, and the chickens, who were all innocent and deserved none of this. The cabin, far out enough to be remote, to be removed, and yet not removed enough to be immune to the bullshit flooding the Hollowed Grounds at this particular moment in time. Nathaniel moved at a swift clip, anger carrying him faster and farther than his usual despondency ever did. His hands were fists at his sides, except for when his knuckles started to hurt and he flexed them, annoyed by the limitations of his own flesh. He wanted to sink his fist into the nearest soft tissue until it wailed. He wanted

Well, he wanted everything back to normal. He wanted the spire protected and the barrier back and everything just as it ought to be, thank you very much. But of course it wasn't. Of course, the Outlanders had finally gone and broken something beyond repair, and now... Now...

He crashed into the bakery like a bull, his expression thunderous. He did not speak. Merely cast a dark glance around the room, at those assembled and far more composed than himself, and threw himself into a back corner. Not before grabbing an entire slice of bread, which he shoved unceremoniously into his mouth (whole). A mistake, but maybe a fortunate mistake, because he was forced to spend some time chewing before he could speak at all.
» Nathaniel
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Explorer

Age: 40 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 4 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 31 - Endr: 30 - Luck: 31
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
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#7
WESSEX
Not needing to eat, Wessex doesn’t come bearing food - but she does offer Isla a gentle pat on the nose and a thank you for her help in the cavern ‘situation.’ Sometimes she wonders what the Medic-turned-Ascended-turned-Unicorn thinks of her, but then the thought usually passes with some kind of bittersweetness. Would have been nice to have an Ascended sister (though who even knows if they would have gotten along well). It was stupid to go and get herself killed. What a waste.

Moving through the hidden door and then down into the basement (how long had it been since she’d help clear it of a Golem?) the warrior takes stock of those assembled with a nod of acknowledgment for each, and a word for Remi, who couldn’t possibly have seen her nod. A hand lands on Amalia’s shoulder and she squeezes gently. “We should try and keep this as orderly and quiet as possible… there are some strong heads and long winded people here. Including myself. If anything is going to get underway, some ground rules should be set.”A brief pause. “And if you don’t want to do that, I’m happy to.”

She lets others putter and praise - though she must admit, the spread looks lovely - and take the seats they think befit their relationships best. She misses Rory, but they haven’t connected lately… and he doesn’t seem to be free to chat, so Wessex stands on the other side of Ronin, giving the not-man a tight-lipped smile.  

Here goes nothing.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Guild Master/Mercenary

Age: 23 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 16
AUNI - Regular - Luxere
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#8
KIADA
i etch my own face
upon my wicked flesh
The Harpy arrives late – later still as the Luxere companion of hers barges into the bakery and down the stairs with Kiada trickling in behind. Her keen eyes notice all the others that had arrived before her, before her eyes land on Amalia with a small nod and slight smirk. This could work, if they played their cards right. Enough of them were angry, and she spies a good mix of Naturals and Outlanders within the group. She’s infinitely pleased, deep down, though her posture and face leaves no trace of the emotion. Instead, she makes her way in, shuffling past the Ascended woman with a small nod in a silent greeting before she finds a place beside Deimos and Amalia – reaching out briefly to touch the Leopardess with a keen softness of greeting.

She doesn’t know if anyone has said anything yet – or if she’s missed anything important, but Auni finds a comfortable place within the group, his eyes dancing between all those gathered as his nub of a tail wiggles excitedly and his horns glow just a smidge of happiness. If nothing else, at least the Luxere is content to be here, even if everyone else’s tensions have ran high and likely would run higher. Kiada is pleased, as well, to see the start of something that she hoped would change the direct circumstance of everything.

The girl isn’t good at following orders, and she leans toward Deimos briefly with an icy gaze that lingers on everyone else gathered before slipping toward Amalia with a curious raised eyebrow to see what she’d have to say to start the meeting.
i am my own devastating god
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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#9
Amalia
she was afraid of heights
Remarkably, they come, expected and unexpected, welcome and surprise. Amalia greets them all in turn, with hands and words and nods, a little less effluvient than normal, thoughtful and withdrawn. A nod at Wessex's suggestion: the evening has been spent in thought of just that, and while she is grateful for the offer of support, she knows it has to be her. The baker called this meeting, and it is in her house. She has put herself in the position of responsibility. She will not shirk that now.

When it appears no others are soon to arrive, Amalia clears her throat. Squeezing Deimos' hand briefly, the quiet baker rises to her feet, looking at those assembled with dark and glittering eyes. "Thank you for coming," she murmurs, her low voice faltering with anxiety at being placed in charge. Swallowing, the quiet baker continues, a little stronger now. "We know why we're here. We're all, ah, unhappy, with recent events." A bit of wry humor; she raises an eyebrow at the understatement, coloring a little as she recalls being the one most visibly enraged. "But... There's no point in going over all that tonight. The reason we're here is to decide what to do next."

She pauses a moment to allow any to protest, her right hand rising to rub her left arm, an anxious moment as she awaits the inevitable doubt, the cries to sit down and let the grown-ups speak. But as her wide gaze skims across this crowd, Amalia feels a strange surge of confidence, trust in most of the people within. Jyoti stays by the girl's shoulder, a soothing beacon in this tense time, ready to ignite in starlight should tempers begin to rise. "As cowardly as she may be, Zariah is right about some things. We can't keep going the way we have, not with the world growing bigger all the time. And we can't keep drawing lines between ourselves. We... we need to become a community. United. But that doesn't mean we should let a tyrant decide how we should build it." Anger glimmers in her voice, a dangerous silver edge. The beginning of claws appear on her fingers, and Amalia inhales deeply, trying to keep the leopardess under control.

Dropping her gaze, the baker swallows once again, trying to keep the tremor of memory out of her voice. "My... my grandmother was a leader, of sorts, in our community. Not in any official way, but... she used to say that to keep a place healthy, you need to be able to love it, and listen, even when it's hard." She isn't sure why she says this: perhaps to channel a bit of the woman, find solace in the absent Chandrakant matriarch, who would do so much better in this position, who could rally and soothe and listen and care. "Zariah doesn't love this place, but the people here? We do. I do."

And for the first time in her life, Amalia knows that it is true. She loves the Hollowed Grounds, as broken as it is, as much as she has rallied against it, as much as it has stolen away. She loves each broken cobblestone, each ghost, each blight and challenge new seasons bring. She loves the empty buildings, the crumbling Antheneum, the whispering woods.

She loves the people who have found a way to make this their home, born within or not. And she will be damned if she lets a tyrant crush them beneath her heel.

Inhaling a shuddering breath, Amalia raises her head, gaze flinty, expression serious. "We deserve leaders who love this place, and are willing to put the people inside above themselves. That's why I... I nominate Rory and Ronin. I trust them both to want what's best for all of us, and to listen and be fair."

And with that she sits, her voice spent, having said as much in these quiet minutes as she has at any time of her life. Sighing out the last of her anxiety, Amalia grips her cup once more, trying to hide the trembling of her hands, the nervous energy which plagues her now that she has said her piece.
but she was much more afraid
of never flying
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#10
DEIMOS
They arrive: a party of rebels and seditious individuals, yearning to impart their knowledge, their experiences, their aspirations, their ambitions, into a mired refrain. Revolutions had never been built in a day, not when the wounds still stung, not when the lacerations still ached, not when there was a host of hatred and malice curling, conjoining, over jagged edges and frayed ends – but it was a starting point, a measure, a reason for their crew. Insurrection bled and burned its way into his foundation, and his eyes glanced over the others that followed the mutinous calls: Jigano, Rory, Ronin, Remi, a fellow he didn’t recognize but seemed irritated (more the merrier), Wessex, and Kiada. To each he gave a nod, and to some, like a favored harpy, he gave a very perceptible glance (ice King to fiery figure; a ruffian, rogue edge, a blessing for patience when he knew it was difficult).

But then Amalia spoke, and he listened, features returned to a cool, composed, chilling demeanor, even as his pride for her audacity, her boldness, plumed in his chest. The beast absorbed her speech, the adoration for the lands, the calling for unions instead of constant, drawn lines – as they were now, in the midst of the Merciless’ clamor and din. His eyes drifted back to those gathered, Naturals and Outlanders alike, already seeking mergers and fusion just by sheer necessity and common motives. It was happening, occurring, without the menial labor – they all knew one another, they all understood one another (to certain degrees), and respect, however begrudging, was instilled. Couldn’t they accomplish something with this lot?

Her nomination for leaders: Rory and Ronin, was a tactful, admirable one. Rory, the one who’d called for fire and flames and riots amidst the din of the Spire Monster’s defeat, and Ronin, the one who’d died and been brought back again, resurrected for purpose. Deimos nodded his assent and approval. “I second the nomination.” Then, perhaps, they could get to work.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 11 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 40
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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#11
Ronin and Remi he knew, nodding to the one and murmuring a quiet greeting to the second, so the blind man would know he was there. He held his opinion of the alchemist tight, trusting to Amalia and Ronin’s judgment in including the young man. Nathaniel earned a cautious nod as well, the bard recognizing the Natural Healer from their brief meeting at the Infirmary, when all those with healing knowledge had gathered to make themselves known to each other in case of emergency. He raised a brow as Wessex swept in and immediately tried to take control, but he did not think she would find it so easy as she did when ordering her Ascended brethren about, and he remained quiet, trusting in his friends to stand their ground – and sending a little pulse of support through the Attuned bond to Amalia. Kiada received a grin, as did Auni, but he kept further greetings to the smallest of murmurs, and when the baker stood to speak he focused his attention on her with a flicker of a proud smile, in spite of the dark situation that had drawn them all together.

He had lived through darkness before, after all. He knew from experience how a dedicated group could face the odds and find the sunrise again.

The bard certainly had no protest for deciding what would come next. If he had, he wouldn’t have come, so instead he simply tilted his head, waiting for her to continue. And it was well worth the wait, her words impassioned but well-thought out, a fitting oratory for one so full of fire and light. He nodded cautious agreement, knowing that what she sought from their existing community was an ideal that was easier to speak of in words than create in practice. Though… Zariah did provide a conveniently unifying target for discontent among a wide swathe of people, natural and outlander, farmer and townsfolk alike.

For a brief moment he had hoped she might nominate herself, as a Chandrakant and her grandmother’s daughter – her mother’s as well, however rocky that relationship had been – but the nomination that came was both surprising and… not. A co-leadership, Natural and Outlander? Rory had, Jigano knew, done his best to make amends for his words at the Spire, and Ronin was easy-going and cheerful, with few enemies, if any, that the bard could think of off the top of his head. He grinned, slanting a look at Rory and raising a brow to make sure the hunter would accept the honor before speaking up as well. ”And I third it,” he agreed, with a nod and a smile for Deimos , glad they continued to be aligned in their support of their friends and loved ones.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Explorer

Age: 40 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 4 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 31 - Endr: 30 - Luck: 31
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
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#12
WESSEX
Wessex listens, but ultimately ends up shaking her head in quiet dismay. They don’t get it.

This isn’t a popularity contest; this is a meeting that is effectively declaring war on a family with powerful magic who has managed to seize control with the help of some impressionable, desperate people. They’re going about finding leaders the wrong way.

She looks to Rory, who felt the strain of leading their people to the Spire through every fiber of his body. She saw the weariness in him before they opened the Spire. She saw how he hated the conflict. Had it gone on long enough, he might have crumbled beneath the emotional and physical weight of it all. She then looks sideways, to Ronin, a man who has surpassed them all. A man she begrudgingly respects and would probably do quite well as a leader for their group - but do the very same qualities that make him an obvious choice paint a massive target on his back? That’s just poor strategizing.

And as the support for Amalia’s choices go round the room, Wessex finds it is too quick, too agreeable. They haven’t really considered their options and what’s in motion in the world above them.

“I don’t,” she says, moments after Jigano voices support for his boyfriend. And before they can try to kill her with their eyes, or kick her out, or try to drown her quite logical argument, she launches into her thoughts, trying to lay them out as succinctly as possible. “They are good options in terms of taking care of people, but this is going to be a long fight against someone who now calls herself The Merciless. Some things to consider: One - do you two want these responsibilities? Rory? You haven’t said a word and I’ve barely seen you since Fiat Lux. Two - If I were Zariah, I would immediately recognize Ronin as a threat. Have him watched, followed, whatever.” Wessex looks again at the not-man beside her. “You’re loved. Charismatic. More than human. We need to keep you safe for awhile longer. And Three - If she does follow through with her threat of consequences for the men who don’t sign up for her Army, what are we going to do if these two are taken? Or if they do sign up and are consequently too exhausted and busy to do anything?”

She keeps her tone cool and quiet, counting out her points on her fingers and directing her questions to the group, trying to make it quite clear that this isn’t a personal attack; she cares as much about their home as Amalia does, which means that she’ll say the things that need to be said, take the heat and the ire, and give another perspective, even if it’s difficult to hear.

Wessex has spent years supporting herself and her sister by sneaking around and being violent. This is the way she thinks.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Remi Taliesin
Alchemist
Portal Guardian
Age: 24 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 31
ISLA - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#13
bring back the water
Was it that easy, then? Two names put forward and motions to accept?

Frowning to himself thoughtfully, Remi glanced sidelong at Ronin before giving his side a playful nudge. Turning his head  casually, Remi grinned. "I swear, if you ask me to call you your highness at home.." The alchemist whispered, tsking under his tongue.

Glancing towards Wessex, or more properly, towards the sound of her voice, the alchemist gently crossed his arms and shook his head. "It has been pointed out to me that Zariah is not the most powerful mage in the Hollowed Grounds. Even she, Edy, and her group of loyalists together are not unbeatable, surely. ..and you are right, she does know Ronin. Knows what he was capable of back home as well as here." Swallowing, and feeling strange defending the man at his side perfectly well able to do the job himself, though feeling helpless to keep his tongue in check, Remi continued. "Ronin is not just charismatic, not just someone well-liked...he was a captain of our storm guards at home, dealt with rulers and politicians on a regular basis.." Jaw clenching slightly as the alchemist tried to take a breath, looking towards the hunter who was in roaring colour compared to the inky blackness. "Though I do not want to see harm come to him again, he is probably much more qualified than anyone else."

So saying, Remi bit his lip, letting his weight sag back against the wall, decidedly not voicing support or rejection for the nominated men.
let the ships roll in

Coding base by Sky!
Speaks with an Italian accent.

Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Let me know if you want to kill him and we can chat.

Magical Items for sale in the wagon: Drinkable Sea-Cup | A cup that transmutes saltwater from the ocean into drinking water. Works one-cup at a time. Full-Smokes | A packet of cigarettes, where each cigarette when smoked counts as a full meal. Clawed-Ring | A ring that when used created claws on the wearer's hand.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Explorer

Age: 40 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 4 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 31 - Endr: 30 - Luck: 31
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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Posts: 1,097
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#14
WESSEX
Ah, she was expecting a pushback. Here it is.

Wessex nods and listens, as Remi’s points are fair, despite the emotion behind them.

“No, I believe you hold the title of most powerful mage, yes?” She eyes the two men, noting their closeness, the smell of them. Very good friends, definitely. Was there more…? She may never know, but it’s enough to make a statement. “You two are close. Can you imagine the damage done if Zariah got ahold of you? Or the baby? Someone that could be used against Ronin?” Again, she looks to the demigod and to the group.

“I’m not arguing his ability or qualifications to lead. I would follow you. I’m saying he may not be right for this, given the circumstances.” She makes a gesture to the others, indicating that she is done for now. She’s made her points. Someone else talk.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all


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