Tiger by the Tail
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#1
He had been dozing in the room with the dead when Remi’s scream rang through the Attuned bond. White fur kept him warm in his fox shape while Isuma curled up against him on one side and the white lantern glowed softly beside him on the other. They were a pale, lonely little spot of light in the quiet dark, but someone needed to keep the deathwatch… and the company of the dead was easier to bear than that of the living just then.

Or at least, it had been. The mental cry had him leaping to his feet, snatching up the lantern and hooking it to a beltloop with a practiced gesture as he fled from the ice room and towards the entrance. He opened his mouth to call orders, but the words died in his throat, the sound failing him as he hit the door, slipping into the vestibule and jerking it roughly shut behind him before he faced the final protection between him and the dark.

Given the furrow that Caiside’s death had caused in his heart, he was less desirous of protection than revenge, and he didn’t even pause before he slipped outside and closed the door firmly behind him before (hopefully) anything could slip in past his lantern’s light. This way! He called to Remi , sending what he hoped was a pulse of direction for the other man to home in on. He had no idea what was going on in the garbled message the alchemist had sent, but he knew the words ‘luxere’ and ‘circle’ (and monster, never forget ‘monster’) and he found his voice at last. Not for humans, but for the antlered herd that protected them from the dark.

They hadn’t protected Caiside, though, had they?

His voice shivered at first but he was a professional and the notes firmed up swiftly as he raised his chin and sang defiantly against the dark, calling the luxere near and walking amongst the herd with confidence he did not feel, trying to coax them into a circle near the Guild door. The song was not one of his, but he’d found it written in a book in the Atheneum and he had set it to music in hopes of entertaining Ludo with it someday. Perhaps he still would, but for now he used it to calm and steer the luxere, holding fiercely to Isla’s memory and the day he’d met Amalia and how they had befriended the antlered guardians last year.

“The sunlight fast is dwindling
My little lamp needs kindling
Its beam shines far
In darkest night.
Dear lantern guard me
With your light.”




**The Lantern Song, from the Cincinnati Waldorf Songbook
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#2
AmaLiA
Safrin's shield
Amalia hears the cry as well, and it is moments before she makes her way to the door, slipping out behind Jigano and transforming as she does. The qilin is a beacon of light, she knows, but it sounds as though a beacon is what they need now: guidance, respite, a haven to come home to, solace from the encroaching dark. Remi, do you see us? Amalia calls, her mental voice echoing in the endless night.

She is larger than the luxere yet fits among them, her long horns and delicate features not so unlike the deer. Conjuring up memories of sunlit days beside the Stonesong, of Safrin's fingers in her hair, Amalia attempts to assist Jigano in guiding the deer to a protective stance. Low in her chest a rumble grows, melodious, the sound of water on ancient stone, giving a backdrop to the bard's melody as the searches in the night for signs of the missing.

Her staff and shield are tucked in the leather cuff, ready to be summoned should any need it, and the necklace of charms with Deimos' barrier glitters on her neck. Peering, hoping, praying to any who might hear her, the qilin calls into the darkness while lavender fire licks her limbs.
& once again I shall kiss the sky
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#3
Change everything you are and everything you were
Your number has been called
A call to action and arms pulsed its way through his skull, and he maneuvered quickly, following all the others who’d been heralded and summoned, no moment of hesitation, racing across the guild hall and corridors. But he had no power of persuasion amongst luxere, and would likely dissuade them, so his precision lingered in the connections, in the stark granules of his presence, trying to hone in their direction. He slipped out, standing amongst Amalia’s quilin form and Jigano’s songs, incapable of doing anything but staring up at the skies, into the midnight oils, ready to defend, ready to take hold, of whatever pressed into their wake – weapons either drawn or crackling beneath his skin.
DEIMOS
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
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#4
to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
They were running – footsteps beating against solid wood, and she couldn’t help but notice, but hear, but follow, taking up her staff, her quiver, her fire and vehemence, hoping something else hadn’t occurred or happened outside these walls. It was supposed to be safe. It was supposed to be okay. It was supposed to be better than last year.

Her heart beat with an anthem to vitriol and acrimony, coating her lungs, bestial, barbaric, twisting and turning as she too ran outside, gave zero thoughts to what the world would be like beyond apertures and thresholds, things that were special and sacred and sanctums – pushing past confines and rushing out into the void. She didn’t pause, she didn’t stop, she did nothing but open her mouth and hum along with the rest, beside an enormous purple deer (didn’t think anything of it, not anymore), matching pitch and tune to Jigano’s stanzas and refrains, striving to coax the luxere for something, pure of heart and mind and soul.
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
Lily Balfour
Entertainer

Age: 34 | Height: 5'9'' | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: N/A - Strg: 16 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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#5
LILY
They’re not… stealthy about their leaving. A silent alarm has been raised, clearly, and she doesn't know for what or whom the alarm bells toll.

So while Lily may or may not have been quietly pouting to herself about two of her friends couldn't be bothered to see her newest, stunning creation, she is roused from her indulgence in self-pity when not one, not two, but four of them tear through the hall. She is on her feet, startled, and sees where they went - out the door. At Melly’s heels, she makes sure the door is locked again, but stands at the barricade, ready to open it when they return from whatever it is they’re doing. She might have been another ideal candidate to sing with them, to walk into the darkness - but her soul had tasted darkness twice before, and she isn’t fond of the feeling. Here, she can unknowingly keep some luxere at the gate. Here, she can ask the password. Here, she can wait.
don't know if you love me or you want me dead
the way you're looking through my eyes
Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
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#6
REMI
if you're not going to swim deep with me
Remi's mental pleas had stopped, for he hadn't the mental capacity to do anything more than breathe through the enormity of pain. If he knew at all what it was like to be thousands of feet below the sea, crushed by the colossal pressure of it all, he might say the pain was something like that. Deafening. Total. He was pure instinct now, flying towards the light, not knowing if it was salvation or the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

From the darkness the manticore came, with an impaled and nearly unconscious Rex, and a wounded Sam. His landing was anything but graceful, and as soon as his paws touched the ground all will-power and strength entirely disappeared as he collapsed into the snow amidst the ring of luxere. Shifting back without thought (leaving Rex and Sam to fend for themselves now that they were in the safety of the light), the alchemist lay prone on the ground. His back was a patchwork of black lines, ribs and muscles bleeding and twitching in the warm luxere light. As shock set in, Remi raised his head, lashes fluttered over dazed eyes. "Rex...Sam..." He murmured weakly, trying to pull himself up with his arm and entirely failing to do so.

With a calmness afforded to her by years of tending to the wounded and dying on battle fields, Isla appears. There is concern in her pebble-blue stare, but no panic. She glances around for Zuriel, her counterpart in this, before setting to work.

get out of my waters


Coding base by Sky!
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#7
Deimos and Melita to defend, Amalia and the unicorns to heal – and gods least fortunate did they need healers right then. Three friends were dumped in the snow, bleeding red and black and clear, and for a moment Jigano thought his heart would freeze as he lost another to the LongNight monsters.

No.

He had been in enough battles, seen enough carnage, that his body didn’t freeze even if his heart tried to. Blue eyes darted over the three - what was Rexanna doing here? Later, later, everything later - assessing swiftly, and finding himself in motion before conscious thought had quite caught up. Whether they would listen to him he couldn’t say, but the desire for everyone to rush to Rexanna’s side would cause more harm than good.

Amalia , help Isla with Remi,” he called to the baker, sure she was already in motion as well but not knowing if her staff could heal Ascended. It could heal alchemists, though, and she’d hopefully be able to get a coherent story from the young man while she worked.

Deimos, get Rex’s bleeding stopped. We’ll pull that bar out once Zuriel has dealt with the rest, but if we pull it too soon it could destabilize her.” It wasn’t like he could stop the General from going to her side, so they would work with it, and with Isla tending to Remi, Zuriel was the best choice to help the worst-injured of the trio. Could Deimos set broken bones and wrap bleeding wounds? … they’d find out, or the General would call for their help if he needed it.

Melita , keep watch and keep the luxere calm.” The last thing they needed was another attack, but so long as the deer remained in their protective circle they had a chance. If the antlered ungulates broke and ran, though… well, worry about that if it happened.

He had other things to worry about at the moment, like Samuel , his maimed hand and leaking ear less dramatic than Rexanna’s shattered state but no less horrifying. Jigano dropped to his knees in the snow beside his friend, tearing a length of darkened, already-bloodstained cloth from his tunic with the aid of his dagger before trying to wrap it around the stumps of the bookmaker’s hand and slow the leak of fluid until the Ascended’s body could begin to close the wounds. He didn’t say anything at first; ‘are you alright’ was idiotic in the circumstances, and ‘what the hell were you thinking’ was irrelevant until everyone was safely inside and the bleeding had stopped. ”Sam, can you stand?” he asked instead, focused on tying the rough bandage rather than looking at the Ascended man’s face.
Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
MIA - Regular - Ragdoll Cat
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#8

Sam struggled to get coherent thoughts to stick in his mind as they flew with Remi, but he was aware enough to feel a great, hot shame. What had he been thinking? That the monsters would just immediately warm to him and explain themselves? They had hardly shown themselves to be friendly beforehand - it had only been his desperation, his need for the monsters to be redeemable that had changed the memories in his mind.

He'd been an idiot, and now Rexanna and Remi were bleeding for it. Bastien hadn't even shown up; he realised with another moment of pain that he didn't know if he was alive. He had to be, right? If Rexanna had arrived and didn't appear to be in great sorrow? But he could hardly check, with the woman leaking fluid from way too many places before him.

Eventually, after it seemed like he'd had an eternity to sit with his thoughts, they were on the ground, Remi shifting back to his normal self; Sam wrapped his arms as softly as he could around Rexanna and tried to lower them both to the ground gently. He wasn't too successful, the loss of his balance the immediate pain when he tried to do anything with his hand making it a jerky landing, but it was at least better than simply dropping.

He stared down at the snow and listened to voices around him. Jigano's voice both brought him comfort (there he was, taking control of the situation like usual) and further guilt. He was already in the man's bad books and he was sure this couldn't help. He hissed with pain as his hand was touched and didn't look at the Guildmaster, instead continued to look at the ground. "...Yes. With help."

Sam would be wobbly, but he could get up if supported, enough to walk into the doors.

Samuel
He took a step but then felt tired
He said, I'll rest a little while
But when he tried to walk again
He wasn't a child


Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
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#9
and indeed, just think: in many ways, body and soul,
i have been more a battlefield —
She can absolutely hear everything that’s going around her, but she can’t see, can’t move, can’t do anything. It’s a wonder her systems keep trying to jump start, trying to work around the beam in her chest. It’s a wonder she’s still working at all. And in her own thoughts, she wonders why it hasn’t given up yet.

Fluid leaks from where her eyes would be, from her nose, from her legs and most of all her chest. It’s a gory scene, but at least the fluid is clear and not painting her in all this red. But thank god for Sam, even with his missing fingers and ability to still feel pain, he lowers her as gently as he can into the snow.

But she can’t do anything else. She hears orders, hears the rummaging of Luxere and people, of Remi’s quiet plea, and she can only sit there, lain upon the snow, beam sticking out from her chest with unseeing eyes.

She’s still there, but barely.

And she hopes that Deimos is there, some form of comfort among the unknown, among the things she cannot see. One constant in a stream of uncertainties.
— than a human being
REXANNA
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
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#10
AmaLiA
Safrin's shield
They come at last, later than she would have liked, two broken Ascended on the manticore's back. With a gasp Amalia surges toward them, then suddenly remembers the luxere. As others rush to help and assist the creatures begin to grow a little restless; they cannot be allowed to leave, scared off into the dark. Inhaling deeply she attempts to calm her mind, burying down her rising panic and fear and keeping her melodious qilin song resounding as she strides toward Remi on the ground, lowering her large head to the wounded man. The fish that swims beside her is bolstering, at least, and Jyoti greets it with a happy croon, spreading more starlight in an attempt to keep the Luxere calm.

He's lacerated, almost broken, and the girl feels the panic rising back up in her throat. Still humming, the qilin breathes deeply against her fallen friend's hair, at the same time willing the staff and shield to appear from her bracer. Both of these have healing- can you grab my horns and stand? We need to get them all inside. She knows - hopes - that Remi will know that her calm tone doesn't mean she doesn't care, only that she must not break yet, not with so much still at stake.

Once she is confident Remi is stable Amalia turns back to where the others are, calling silently to Deimos and Jigano while she and Jyoti sing. Can you get them in? Remi and I will come last... we have the staff, and a dream fish. We'll be okay.
& once again I shall kiss the sky


Age: 7 | Height: | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#11


The luxere shuffle nervously, however at the approach of the dark-shielded monsters and bloody-ascended-carrying-manticore they begin to stir unhappily. It is only the soothing voices that keep them at bay, though more will need to be done if any are planning on staying outside and adding to their worry.


Oh. Well that answers that. As Amalia steps outside, one of the dream fish swims towards her, happily bobbing around her head just as Jyoti does. Should the small starwhale engage with the fish, Jyo will find the starry creature more than happily to swim playfully, though never does it go far enough away to leave Amalia in the dark.
Lily Balfour
Entertainer

Age: 34 | Height: 5'9'' | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#12
LILY
The darkness is absolute, except for the luxere’s glowing horns and the now two fish that hover around the door. She remembers them from last year, but imagines they aren’t for her. And you know what? That’s ok, because Lily doesn’t really intend to go outside this time. No matter what calls. No matter what tries tolure them out of the safety of boarded up windows and soft firelight. It isn’t worth it.

Lily isn’t that brave.

But when the group comes back - and she can hear their voices, she can’t see much beyond the luxere’s light, but when they cross through to the safety of the circle (what is left of the circle? Honestly, it’s so hard to tell), Lily unlocks the door and pushes it open, revealing the belly of the Guildhall to the cold, vicious darkness. The opening itself is only as wide as it needs to be, so that the returning people (and unicorns… and whale) can get back in. Deimos might have to scrape himself in, as might the unicorns - but she bears witness to the trauma; the injuries and heartache and solemn faces of the group.

See? This is why you don’t go outside.
don't know if you love me or you want me dead
the way you're looking through my eyes
Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
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#13
Change everything you are and everything you were
Your number has been called
His expectations were low – he’d seen this before, in some way, shape, or form, pressures of the battlefield when eventually it just became another onslaught, another moment in the backdrop, to watch another fall, crumble, another friend hastened to the slaughter, towards oblivion, well before he could ever reach them. He’d fought tooth and nail for all of them once, upon daises of war, fleeting trumpets and howls slowly turning to feral screams of pain, of terror, and little to no triumph in between. Watching them break apart, listening to final breaths, to the gurgle in throats, to the rasping reels of agony, had been little more than torture, why he’d grown detached, why eventually, everything seared and simmered away, away, away from him – apathy in the face of demise, because he thought it might be easier to bear death’s claws, death’s scythe, by hardening, by forging steel upon stone, barbarity pressed within bones and flesh. And all these damned people accepted him anyway, cherished and loved and devoted and even if he couldn’t understand it, couldn’t believe it, couldn’t fathom it, he thawed, melted, and did the same.

So when Remi descended, collapsing, faltering, and stumbling, the general rushed forward to help and assist, those days spent amongst the dying, the shredded, the torn asunder allowing his form to simply move without preamble, without calculation, without prelude. He’d done this before. He’d done this far too many times to count. He’d done this and this and this and then buried them on the sidelines, stained in dirt, mud, and their blood. Except, the depths of his gaze fell upon someone familiar, someone known, someone revered, admired, loved, and the nefarious intricacies of his heart burst, plummeted into his ribs, ricocheted and bounded against his lungs.

Rexanna.

There was a mind-numbing moment where he felt like he was watching from somewhere far, far away, adrift on the clouds or in the Stygian abyss, confused, perplexed, uncertain who was in his form or what was happening. That couldn’t be Rex; there were portions and pieces of her missing.

Except those stunned motions left him quickly, swiftly, (her – his Thief, his friend, his family) and his form already bent towards her, arms extended, no questions asked, no inquiries prospered, not a single sound leaving his damned mouth. Muted far more than normal, he wasn’t certain if he was even breathing, the spiraling acrimony and twisted barbarity annihilating junctures of his soul – this wasn’t right, this wasn’t fair, but the injustices were well worn and presumed, they both understood the way earth shaped their moments and shards. In another life, the Reaper would’ve scalded, brutalized, and followed the wayward path of whoever had done this to her. They would have died, slowly, piece by piece, tissue and fibers, marrow and muscle, torn away from their skeleton until they were a screaming carcass. The world wouldn’t have dared. The world would’ve paid.

Here, he was the Sword, and he could only fight, could only defend, could only be something so much more minimal. “Rexanna,” he whispered and his voice cracked, a hint, an inclination of everything else fissuring within him. Not again. I cannot do this again.

Careful, gentle, as best as the monolith could with her protruding beam, he lifted her into his arms, fought off the wake of terror crushing upon his entity. Later. Later he could fall apart. Later he could relive the nightmare of being only a witness to her massacre. The loud, booming words of commands, of demands, of other motions slipping through were relatively ignored; he moved slowly between luxere and snow, his only thoughts on ensuring she was healed – Zuriel inside, waiting, waiting, waiting. When they finally arrived, after what felt like an eternity of his maneuvering steps, trying not to jostle, to place further harm in her wake, he maneuvered sideways, ensuring they both entered the threshold, thanks to Lily's command of the door. Only when he'd reached inside, did his voice even bother to echo again. “We need a space.” A cleared table, or two put together, enough to hold and bear her form while they worked and tended. He could feel Zuriel's movement and motions, a rushing conflagration, at his side within an instant, ready to work.
DEIMOS
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
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#14
to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
It was like the Rift – poignant, beautiful moments of hope, until they were torn away, blasted, bludgeoned, discarded, destroyed, again and again and again. It coated her lungs and seared her soul, seethed against the back of her eyes; but she couldn’t, wouldn’t falter, not when they needed her. Her hands shook but she advanced, eyes watching, drifting, across Rexanna’s mutilated form until the General scooped her up, Remi’s manticore frame crumbling into the snow, Samuel’s broken, whittled anomalies existing in the tangible wake of too many strains. They’d tested and been bested; she had no idea what, and didn’t have the heart to ask. They’d had warnings. They’d seen the shadows before. It didn’t matter, really, when everything was said and done –

She swallowed down the bile, the trembles, the shudders, uncertain what to do until Jigano’s voice called over her. The honeybee girl had half a notion of simply ignoring it altogether, of following the rush back into the guild hall – but she’d lingered out here, in the dead of night, amongst demons and infidels outside their wares, and had an occupation now; ensuring the luxere were calm, when she was anything but. The youth nodded, heart hammering, hammering, hammering, while her voice was composed, a hum under her breath meant to reassure, hands reaching and seeking out fur and antlers, offering scratches and pats, collected, rooted, settled souls in the temptation of unraveling, trying to keep them all together when everyone knew they couldn’t.
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA


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