[DND] promises to keep
#1
[html]

()

occurs soon after this thread. He'll come out of his meditations when he hears Elphaba approach.

He did not know how long he waited beneath the shadow of the tall, sentinel pines, but for his purpose Athras would wait ages. There was little more he loved than his god, his homeland, his people. Himself, perhaps-- but that was beside the point. He must have made an impression on the mottled dog, for despite his being an “outsider” she had taken his offer to her leader. That was something, he didn’t know what to expect but the opportunity was thrilling. He couldn’t help but mull over the woman’s suspicion. As a child he’d watched his parents deal with the other clans, yet even they had not held their secrets quite so close to their chests. He wondered…


Eventually his gaze came to rest on the forest floor and a pine cone half-buried in the soft earth. He picked it up, brushing the dirt and detritus away before he silently stowed it in an inside pocket. His eyes shifted subtly left and right to assure there were no witnesses. It wasn’t technically stealing, of course, but he hadn't lived through a war without a certain measure of caution. The cone disappeared into his dark robe, joining the cruel horn-hilted dagger belted at his hip, both treasures well-concealed beneath the fabric.


In the dog’s absence he leaned against a pine, while Hasufel roamed a little further back picking at tufts of green grass. His eyes wandered with wistful yearning deeper into the shadows where the sun could not shine. Not for the sake of these people and their secrets, but for the forest itself. There was power here, presence. He sensed it through the bark where his flesh rested against the tree. He sensed it in the pads of his feet where they stood on the forest floor. He breathed in, nostrils flaring as he exhaled. Slowly, his eyes began to close. His heartbeat became his entire being, ears pricked and twitching at every sound, every bird’s call, spiders in their webs, hares in their burrows. He attuned himself to the forest, giving himself over to it’s power.

<style>
.athtext p.ooc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; text-indent:0px; text-align:center; }
.athtext p.ooc:after { margin:0 auto; content:''; filter: alpha(opacity=60%); opacity: .30; display: block; border-bottom: 1px solid; padding-bottom: 10px; }
.athtext p.wc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; text-indent:0px; text-align:right; }
.athtext p { margin:10px 20px 0; font-family:Noto Sans; line-height:23px; font-size:15px; }
.athtext b.npc { opacity:.75; }
.athtext b.lang:before { content:'< '; }
.athtext b.lang:after { content:' >'; } </style>[/html]
[html]<div class="athras-sig">

<div class="fancytext">Athras</div><br>
<div class="links"><a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.AthrasEryn">Character Wiki</a> ❦ <a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Stormie">Player Wiki</a><br>
</div>
<div id="signature-icons"> <a href="#" class="reply-medium" title="REPLY SPEED: MEDIUM"></a><a href="#!" title="I prefer if you do NOT use graphical tables in our threads. Thanks!" class="no-tables"></a><a href="#!" title="I will roleplay mature material." class="will-mature"></a><a href="#!" class="skill-fighting" title="Athras is skilled with daggers"></a><a href="#!" class="skill-animals" title="Athras is a skilled horseman."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-stealth" title="Athras is skilled in stealth."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-spirituality" title="Athras is a skilled Druid."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-social" title="Athras is charismatic and a skilled politician."></a></div>

</div>

<style type="text/css">
@import url('https://soulsrpg.com/images/icons/postsig/signature-icons.css');
.athras-sig {
margin:0 auto;
width:400px;
text-align:center;
height:320px;
background-image:url('https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/383491898033045504/594714391379705872/athras.png');
background-repeat:no-repeat;
background-position:top right;
background-size:250px; }
.athras-sig .fancytext {
font-family:'Tangerine', serif;
font-size:70px;
margin-right:150px;
padding-top:150px;
text-shadow:#fff 1px 1px 5px;
}
.athras-sig .links {
font-size:10px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
margin-right:150px;
margin-top:-5px;
text-transform:uppercase;
opacity:0.9;
}
.athras-sig #signature-icons { padding-top:50px; }
.athras-sig #signature-icons a { margin-right:15px; border-radius:5px; opacity:.55; filter:alpha(opacity=55%); transition:200ms linear all; -moz-transition:200ms linear all; }
.athras-sig #signature-icons a:hover, .athras-sig #signature-icons a:focus, .athras-sig #signature-icons a:active { opacity:1; filter:alpha(opacity=100%); }
</style>
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Tangerine" rel="stylesheet">[/html]
#2
[html]

Word Count → ??? :: ty for starting! :>





The fox watched the stranger intently. It had grown in these woods and belonged to them, as much as any being born of forest, of fern, of hollow and pine. It was a little master of the undergrowth. Eyes bright as polished gold coins tracked the man's movement, watching as he slid into an attuned meditation. The trees breathed around them, boughs entwined overhead like a verdant tapestry preventing all but a glimpse of the mellow sommar sun.


He was close enough to the border that the thistles grew in thick briar patches. Many were in flower.


The queen, when she came, was wreathed in the fragrant smell of them. A single purple bloom was caught in the thick, dark tresses of her hair, the thorns hidden behind a curtain of silky ink.


Her slender physique was concealed by a deep forest-green traveler's cloak, fastened in the sweet hollow at her throat by a silver serpent pin. Its singular eye was inset by a small glittering emerald that winked invitingly when dappled light passed over it. For all the apparently demure nature of her attire, Salsola's boss was a striking woman - Best adorned by the pale shock of her own face, inlaid by smoke-ringed cochineal eyes as stark as fresh blood on snow.


She did not disguise her approach but nonetheless moved quietly. One dark hand appeared from the folds of the cloak to trace an invisible sigil in the hushed air.


"Outsider," Her voice was cloying and softer than expected, curling like smoke from between black lips. She regarded the well-dressed man with a flick of her pupils, and when she smiled it was a terribly lovely thing.

<style>
.candleelphsimpletext {font-family:'droid serif', times, serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left; margin:0 auto; width:95%; line-height:25px;}
.candleelphsimpletext p.ooc {opacity:0.7; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-indent:0px; padding:10px 5px;}
.candleelphsimpletext p.ooc + p {padding:0px 5px;}
.candleelphsimpletext .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;}
.candleelphsimpletext p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:10px 5px;}
</style>
[/html]
#3
[html]

()

How could he miss the pink buds bolstered and blooming with thorns, a small army of pale faces planted amongst thick knotted roots. He’d been careful not to disturb them when he arrived and kept a wary distance for the sake of his dark robe. It wouldn’t do to snag the hem on their thick stalks and while he wore it often (for the rest of his wardrobe had been doubtlessly destroyed in the forest fire that claimed his family’s home) it was well tended, clean, and suited his long svelte form quite elegantly.


The branches creaked overhead, their leaves swaying in whatever breeze could be tempted to move them. It was a symphony to anyone who stopped long enough to hear, their roots deep and hungry stretching and twisting from tree to tree entangled like a spider’s web beneath rich loamy earth fragrant with new growth and enriched by decay. He felt them in the false silence that passed between the dog’s departure and the Boss’s arrival, growing, feeding upon the bones of those who came before, devouring their secrets as he sought them for himself.


She arrived, dressed in verdant green, broach dazzling in the hazy summer sun. Eyes like ice opened on her pale face, striking amidst the rich earth tones of her feminine form. He would be remiss not to appreciate such blatant beauty and did so openly, not the gawking awkward stare of the untouched, but effectually awed how one might admire a work of art. Though the bearing of his shoulders was regal as he straightened, all confidence and poise as befit his station and superior breeding stemming from generation upon generation. Perhaps it was flattery not to disguise the inkling of desire that floated to the surface, glimmering in the cool collected pass of his gaze, but there was little doubt that some of it was genuine. He was a man of great taste, after all.


“Boss.” He acknowledged in a playful parody of her own tone. That was what the woman had called her, after all. The smile spread his dark lips warmly, he bent in a gracious and courtly bow that emphasized his dexterity. Finishing with a flourish he once again looked into her angular face, taking her in and positively drinking up the vibrant hue of her eyes. “She didn’t give you a name, did she?” The half-shadow said with an indulgent chortle, his eyes twinkling merrily. “I am Lord Athras Eryn of Caledonia.” He couldn’t be sure just how much the woman had told her about their situation, though he was willing to wait and see what came of it. Perhaps she’d given it some thought already.


“I was just admiring your forest.” He said, ingratiating himself into her company, though the compliment wasn’t a reach, or insincere for that matter. “It reminds me of my home.” The pearly grin faded subtly taking on a darkness and sobriety for the lives lost to the memory of fire. A beat. “I wonder…” as Athras’s attention returned to the ravishing woman draped in emerald green with a mischievous side glance. “What did she say of me?”

<style>
.athtext p.ooc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; text-indent:0px; text-align:center; }
.athtext p.ooc:after { margin:0 auto; content:''; filter: alpha(opacity=60%); opacity: .30; display: block; border-bottom: 1px solid; padding-bottom: 10px; }
.athtext p.wc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; text-indent:0px; text-align:right; }
.athtext p { margin:10px 20px 0; font-family:Noto Sans; line-height:23px; font-size:15px; }
.athtext b.npc { opacity:.75; }
.athtext b.lang:before { content:'< '; }
.athtext b.lang:after { content:' >'; } </style>[/html]
[html]<div class="athras-sig">

<div class="fancytext">Athras</div><br>
<div class="links"><a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.AthrasEryn">Character Wiki</a> ❦ <a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Stormie">Player Wiki</a><br>
</div>
<div id="signature-icons"> <a href="#" class="reply-medium" title="REPLY SPEED: MEDIUM"></a><a href="#!" title="I prefer if you do NOT use graphical tables in our threads. Thanks!" class="no-tables"></a><a href="#!" title="I will roleplay mature material." class="will-mature"></a><a href="#!" class="skill-fighting" title="Athras is skilled with daggers"></a><a href="#!" class="skill-animals" title="Athras is a skilled horseman."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-stealth" title="Athras is skilled in stealth."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-spirituality" title="Athras is a skilled Druid."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-social" title="Athras is charismatic and a skilled politician."></a></div>

</div>

<style type="text/css">
@import url('https://soulsrpg.com/images/icons/postsig/signature-icons.css');
.athras-sig {
margin:0 auto;
width:400px;
text-align:center;
height:320px;
background-image:url('https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/383491898033045504/594714391379705872/athras.png');
background-repeat:no-repeat;
background-position:top right;
background-size:250px; }
.athras-sig .fancytext {
font-family:'Tangerine', serif;
font-size:70px;
margin-right:150px;
padding-top:150px;
text-shadow:#fff 1px 1px 5px;
}
.athras-sig .links {
font-size:10px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
margin-right:150px;
margin-top:-5px;
text-transform:uppercase;
opacity:0.9;
}
.athras-sig #signature-icons { padding-top:50px; }
.athras-sig #signature-icons a { margin-right:15px; border-radius:5px; opacity:.55; filter:alpha(opacity=55%); transition:200ms linear all; -moz-transition:200ms linear all; }
.athras-sig #signature-icons a:hover, .athras-sig #signature-icons a:focus, .athras-sig #signature-icons a:active { opacity:1; filter:alpha(opacity=100%); }
</style>
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Tangerine" rel="stylesheet">[/html]
#4
[html]

Word Count → ??? :: ---





There were undeniable traces of nobility about him, the Outsider; Here and there they were squandered, in the flourish of an elegant gesture, in the curtail of a finely hemmed robe. Elphaba was an observant woman - blindness would never have let her keep such a heavy crown. She saw the little stitches here and there, loving repairs albeit frequent ones. She saw what the fox had seen - that they were alone, truly so, with no strong scent of a pack to bolster him.


Here was a man, down on his luck; A rich man made poor.


There was nothing the powerful loathed more than the idea of their own potential destitution. Where the thought of it might have sobered or humbled others less firm in their convictions, it only served to embolden the Boss. The losses of Outsiders were inevitable, as was the nature of their inferiority.


Destiny had taken something from this man, this Lord Athras Eryn of Caledonia. Destiny had also led him here.


For a moment Elphaba fancied keeping him. It would be remiss of her to deny the Fates their wishes; He had a handsome face and a warm voice that promised warmer things still. She liked the way he spoke, as though they were acquaintances already sharing a jest. She very much liked his long, glossy hair, pulled back neatly from his perceptive stare. She wondered how the finery of him would come apart in her hands; Men were like that, layers of potential wrapped around their singular truths.


But Idrieus had let him live, and even more-so, she had brought his word. Curiosities never ceased.


"She's not one much for chatting," Elphaba tilted her head coyly, fixing him with an unblinking regard, "Prefers to get straight to the point of things - the point of a sword, mostly. You must be special, indeed," The words held within them the promise of laughter, yet un-given, a taste of mirth.


"I have never heard of Caledonia," Tasting the unfamiliar word, the Boss ran her tongue over her teeth thoughtfully, "But I have met many men who consider themselves Lords; Lords of dirt, Lords of mud, Lords of sticks and stones and ants and bones. Only status over others can grant such a title and give it meaning. So tell me, Athras Eryn, just what - or whom - are you Lord over?"

<style>
.candleelphsimpletext {font-family:'droid serif', times, serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left; margin:0 auto; width:95%; line-height:25px;}
.candleelphsimpletext p.ooc {opacity:0.7; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-indent:0px; padding:10px 5px;}
.candleelphsimpletext p.ooc + p {padding:0px 5px;}
.candleelphsimpletext .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;}
.candleelphsimpletext p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:10px 5px;}
</style>
[/html]
#5
[html]

()

takes all afternoon on one post You are a goddess, teach me your ways! Also, these two could totally take over the world and I'm here for it!

He adored the colors of her, the deep dark browns that wrapped around her pale face, the ink-dark hair that spilled down slight shoulders. The shape of hers, willowy as he was, her form fleshed out with just enough curves to emphasize her feminine form. These were desirable traits to the lord of Taur, who wore his hair long in accordance to the long-held traditions of kin and clan: whose pelt was earth and shadow, his cyan eyes luminous in fine, narrow features. His were a people that worshipped in the deepest recesses of the wood, kneeling before hidden shrines of woven vines, strung bones, fading flowers. He smelled of such, of earth and peat, foliage dried and given to rot, fungus bursting from the buried dead.


He stood upon the threshold of a great nation, he could sense them, their myriad scents— tens of denizens that could be upon him should she merely crook her fingers. He should have been humbled. His position was poor, powerless, war stripped him and ripped him away from his family’s wealth and the promise of a life without toil. But the sun still rose, and his people remained. Perhaps it was folly to place even a modicum of trust in their high king, but Athras had to believe. Together they would form a new nation out of the ashes. Iomair had failed them once already, but Iomair was not of the old blood, he had not been baptized in the same soil. Athras would not fail them.


“Just so. I much prefer our discourse.” His thoughts turned to the dagger at his hip, present but well-hidden. Had things turned sour he was confident in his abilities, but...words were sharper than any sword should one know how to use them.


As her tongue ran across jagged teeth and paler gums, Athras paused to watch, wondering how might such power taste. He did not balk at the cardinal red stare but narrowly resisted the urge to tilt his head in much the same way. She was such a ravishing, dangerous creature he longed to take in her every angle, like the many facets of an uncut gem. There was no denying her power, it exuded from her lungs with every breath. He was intoxicated, enraptured. But not in thrall. He had a purpose.


“I don’t doubt it. It’s many weeks west of here.” Why would she concern herself with a foreign kingdom when her own was ripe and thriving.


A slow serpentine smile spread over pearlescent teeth. His interest had not been in vain, as beauty was a fleeting thing but such a mind was infinitely more desirable. His ears twitched, and he edged ever so slightly forwards. “The king and I had this conversation recently. I called him the king without a kingdom, and I the lord of the ashes.”

“He did not share my sense of humor,” as Iomair had reacted only with regret and sorrow. It would not impress the Boss either, he suspected and obliged her interests. “We are but refugees,” his expression sobered. Their circumstance was dire and he did not foresee sympathy. But it was a truth he could not banish. “For now.” His tongue curled on the words, sharpening them, strengthening them, leaving no room for doubt.


The half-shadow’s gaze drifted up from beneath his dark lashes, “I’m willing to offer what little we possess for the means with which to rebuild.” He was frank and saw no use in lying nor sugar-coating a simple truth. She was a clever woman, and he a clever man. Those eyes would see through any dishonesty or half-truths. Athras would expect no less.

“And more...” Then did his head tilt, gaze flashing with possibility, should she reach for it.

<style>
.athtext p.ooc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; text-indent:0px; text-align:center; }
.athtext p.ooc:after { margin:0 auto; content:''; filter: alpha(opacity=60%); opacity: .30; display: block; border-bottom: 1px solid; padding-bottom: 10px; }
.athtext p.wc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; text-indent:0px; text-align:right; }
.athtext p { margin:10px 20px 0; font-family:Noto Sans; line-height:23px; font-size:15px; }
.athtext b.npc { opacity:.75; }
.athtext b.lang:before { content:'< '; }
.athtext b.lang:after { content:' >'; } </style>[/html]
[html]<div class="athras-sig">

<div class="fancytext">Athras</div><br>
<div class="links"><a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.AthrasEryn">Character Wiki</a> ❦ <a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Stormie">Player Wiki</a><br>
</div>
<div id="signature-icons"> <a href="#" class="reply-medium" title="REPLY SPEED: MEDIUM"></a><a href="#!" title="I prefer if you do NOT use graphical tables in our threads. Thanks!" class="no-tables"></a><a href="#!" title="I will roleplay mature material." class="will-mature"></a><a href="#!" class="skill-fighting" title="Athras is skilled with daggers"></a><a href="#!" class="skill-animals" title="Athras is a skilled horseman."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-stealth" title="Athras is skilled in stealth."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-spirituality" title="Athras is a skilled Druid."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-social" title="Athras is charismatic and a skilled politician."></a></div>

</div>

<style type="text/css">
@import url('https://soulsrpg.com/images/icons/postsig/signature-icons.css');
.athras-sig {
margin:0 auto;
width:400px;
text-align:center;
height:320px;
background-image:url('https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/383491898033045504/594714391379705872/athras.png');
background-repeat:no-repeat;
background-position:top right;
background-size:250px; }
.athras-sig .fancytext {
font-family:'Tangerine', serif;
font-size:70px;
margin-right:150px;
padding-top:150px;
text-shadow:#fff 1px 1px 5px;
}
.athras-sig .links {
font-size:10px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
margin-right:150px;
margin-top:-5px;
text-transform:uppercase;
opacity:0.9;
}
.athras-sig #signature-icons { padding-top:50px; }
.athras-sig #signature-icons a { margin-right:15px; border-radius:5px; opacity:.55; filter:alpha(opacity=55%); transition:200ms linear all; -moz-transition:200ms linear all; }
.athras-sig #signature-icons a:hover, .athras-sig #signature-icons a:focus, .athras-sig #signature-icons a:active { opacity:1; filter:alpha(opacity=100%); }
</style>
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Tangerine" rel="stylesheet">[/html]
#6
[html]

Word Count → ??? :: tee hee this thread is fun! ;>





He would fit right in among her people, the Queen realized with belated surprise. Outsiders worthy enough to consider sponsorship over were rare. Having lived all her life embedded by thorny brambles and embraced by haunted woods, Elphaba's pride in her dominion bordered on the manic piety of a zealot. The forests he complemented (in words but also in sight, smell, and if she allowed herself to fantasize on it, taste) were her eyes, the leaves her ears, the roots her veins. She could tangle him all up in them; She could-


"The King?"


Trust such primitives to allow a man to lead them. Her grandfather, mad as the night, had been the first and last king of Salsola. Oma's golden legacy had seen to that, ingraining a matriarchal prejudice so deeply into their culture that it had become the lasting word of the Law.


Still, the herald of another so-supposed monarch on the Peninsula was of great interest to Elphaba. She could tolerate the presence of a Lord, especially one so delectable. Could she tolerate the arrival of a King?


Hidden beneath the folds of the rich green cloak, her fingers curled pensively.


"If you are one of many refugees, then this Caledonia to the west you speak of exists only in memory," Perceptive, she saw cleanly through to the truth between his clever words. He was well-spoken and well-mannered for a disenfranchised vagrant. Given the opportunity, she looked him over again, searching this time for signs of a battle once fought to prove her suspicions. Kingdoms rarely rose to great power without attracting the jealousy or ire of neighbors. Having weathered more than a few wars, Salsola knew this better than most. "Are you terribly loyal to your king? Given, it would seem, that he lost your ancestral home. Or perhaps he was not then King of Caledonia, as you were Lord?"


Confident, she stepped closer into his space, and breathed deeply of the earthy scents that clung to his disheveled finery.


"What if you did not need to rebuild?" It was an innocent little question, spoken sweetly as though with great mercy; In the shadows of the trees her eyes glowed like pyres, windows into the covetous hunger that burned therein. "Why not simply come with me, instead? My realm has everything a man like you could ever... Desire. Food, wine, wealth, status, power; All this I could grant you, in time - For a little price, of course." In Salsola, nothing worth having ever came freely.


It thrilled her to imagine how handsome he would be, with an elegant collar fastened around his neck. Oh! Idrieus had been right to let him live!

<style>
.candleelphsimpletext {font-family:'droid serif', times, serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left; margin:0 auto; width:95%; line-height:25px;}
.candleelphsimpletext p.ooc {opacity:0.7; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-indent:0px; padding:10px 5px;}
.candleelphsimpletext p.ooc + p {padding:0px 5px;}
.candleelphsimpletext .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;}
.candleelphsimpletext p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:10px 5px;}
</style>
[/html]
#7
[html]

()

To be clear, he's offering his "stealthy rogue services" he will elaborate on that if given the chance. Of course he is alluding to other things Wink as well, but those are freebies XD

However this ends, I am immensely enjoying this thread!

Mention of Iomair seemed to pique her interest, he watched the sharp points of her ears strain towards him. His eyes caught on their edges where he imagined nibbling, caressing with warm breath and warmer words. The cloying smoky rasp of her voice spoke, disillusioned. He stifled the urge to quirk a dark brow, perhaps she would have preferred a queen? The notion came to him unbidden, it was not a difficult conclusion to come by she was— after all— a woman. Her presence did not demand respect so much as take it. And he was a rapt audience all but begging for more.


He smiled but sadly, “indeed.” He’d been correct in his assessment of her, those eyes the sinful crimson of blood fresh spilled would catch even the silences between words. “And it will continue to be.” Long fingers steepled momentarily before spreading before him, the briefest of glances bestowed upon the pale scars etched into his left palm. He’d cursed the land, the soil, bid the roots shrivel and die, so the usurpers would find no reward in their victory. Barren and charred was the cradle of Nanin, the birthplace of his vengeful god. He’d shed blood for this favor. And would do so again.


The Boss’s gaze swept him once more, she would find little evidence save for the freshly stitched jagged edges of a hem that had been touched by flame. The half-shadow had been quick, he had been silent, and had escaped unscathed. His talents did not lie in the thick of melee, but on the fringes: in the trees, the thickets— for he had been born of shadow and they obeyed his command. He made himself available to her discerning eye, opening his stance for her inspection. The dark fabric of his robe draped wide on his shoulders continuing down into a v that exposed just enough of his chest, revealing taut flesh and a splash of white. Athras Eryn was not a modest man.


“Oh, but I am loyal,” he said with a smile that was not entirely pleasant. “So long as that loyalty gets me what I want. And I want a great deal.” When she advanced, he met her half-way. “The king is old, and I am not. I am patient. I can wait.” The warmth and gravity of his speech faded into a whisper. She was so close he could reach out and touch her. When he breathed it was of her. When he turned his head their eyes met and therein he saw the zeal of her, the want that curled her fingers beneath the fabric of an evergreen cloak. He cocked his head, regarding her with a half-smile that was deceptively sharper than it seemed.

He did not deny that he wanted her, the desire was written on his visage, sparking in the feral slant of his cyan eyes. But his was without avarice. He did not wish to possess anyone and neither would he be possessed. Athras Eryn had been born of wood and shadow, old blood, and older gods, his legacy was long.


One hand behind his back beckoned the grey stallion closer. “Why beg a price when you could have me for free?” He whispered, voice dark and soft as the distant rumble of a summer storm. His hand twitched just itching to reach out and touch to smooth a lock of her ink-dark hair down a slight shoulder. “Aid us, darkling and I’d be happy to offer you my services and more. Aid us, and I would be Athras Eryn, Lord-Regent of New Caledonia. And I would be..." he leaned in to breathe the word with soft, hot breath, "yours.

The stallion behind him drew obediently nearer and the hand behind his back fell to the side. It edged ever so slowly, ever so silent into his dark robe, inching toward the belt hidden underneath.

<style>
.athtext p.ooc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; text-indent:0px; text-align:center; }
.athtext p.ooc:after { margin:0 auto; content:''; filter: alpha(opacity=60%); opacity: .30; display: block; border-bottom: 1px solid; padding-bottom: 10px; }
.athtext p.wc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; text-indent:0px; text-align:right; }
.athtext p { margin:10px 20px 0; font-family:Noto Sans; line-height:23px; font-size:15px; }
.athtext b.npc { opacity:.75; }
.athtext b.lang:before { content:'< '; }
.athtext b.lang:after { content:' >'; } </style>[/html]
[html]<div class="athras-sig">

<div class="fancytext">Athras</div><br>
<div class="links"><a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.AthrasEryn">Character Wiki</a> ❦ <a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Stormie">Player Wiki</a><br>
</div>
<div id="signature-icons"> <a href="#" class="reply-medium" title="REPLY SPEED: MEDIUM"></a><a href="#!" title="I prefer if you do NOT use graphical tables in our threads. Thanks!" class="no-tables"></a><a href="#!" title="I will roleplay mature material." class="will-mature"></a><a href="#!" class="skill-fighting" title="Athras is skilled with daggers"></a><a href="#!" class="skill-animals" title="Athras is a skilled horseman."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-stealth" title="Athras is skilled in stealth."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-spirituality" title="Athras is a skilled Druid."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-social" title="Athras is charismatic and a skilled politician."></a></div>

</div>

<style type="text/css">
@import url('https://soulsrpg.com/images/icons/postsig/signature-icons.css');
.athras-sig {
margin:0 auto;
width:400px;
text-align:center;
height:320px;
background-image:url('https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/383491898033045504/594714391379705872/athras.png');
background-repeat:no-repeat;
background-position:top right;
background-size:250px; }
.athras-sig .fancytext {
font-family:'Tangerine', serif;
font-size:70px;
margin-right:150px;
padding-top:150px;
text-shadow:#fff 1px 1px 5px;
}
.athras-sig .links {
font-size:10px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
margin-right:150px;
margin-top:-5px;
text-transform:uppercase;
opacity:0.9;
}
.athras-sig #signature-icons { padding-top:50px; }
.athras-sig #signature-icons a { margin-right:15px; border-radius:5px; opacity:.55; filter:alpha(opacity=55%); transition:200ms linear all; -moz-transition:200ms linear all; }
.athras-sig #signature-icons a:hover, .athras-sig #signature-icons a:focus, .athras-sig #signature-icons a:active { opacity:1; filter:alpha(opacity=100%); }
</style>
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Tangerine" rel="stylesheet">[/html]
#8
[html]

Word Count → ??? :: sorry for the wait! >:3





'The king is old, and I am not. I am patient. I can wait.'


Funny, how familiar that sentiment seemed to her; As if he were speaking the title of a chapter in the book of her life. There had been a time when Elphaba thought she was patient. That she could wait. That age would change the secret systems running their world. That time had long since passed.


It had started that day on the bluff, when she'd held a dagger to her own grandmother's heart.


Ambition had a way of growing momentum. Like a stampede of wild horses, it was easy to lose control over.


There was disappointment blooming in her stomach, black flowers turning their velvet faces away from the sun. He was too clever to give her the answer she wanted - perhaps his own intentions ran deeper than was able to be coerced, or perhaps some instinct in him could sense the weight of chains that followed her every word. Whatever the truth, Elphaba was not used to being refused something that she wanted. The affront of it was unfamiliar.


Or perhaps it was only a challenge? A challenge she could understand.


Turning this over and over like a gold coin in her mind, the young queen's eyes narrowed.


"Nothing worth having ever comes freely," Perhaps it was a warning. They were standing so close now that she could reach out and touch him - He was man enough that she could feel his desire, potent in the air between them. At least some things could be relied upon.


Instead, she took one step backward and away. "Little shadow lord, you presume too much. Regent you may soon become, but Kings negotiate only with other Kings." The lust was a tight fist in her stomach, but Elphaba had been playing the Game for a long time now. She knew how not to come undone; She was wed to the superiority of her kingdom, and to her own power.


Her eyes moved between him and the grey stallion that had sidled up behind. It was a handsome creature, like its master. Good blood made for good stock.


Clever man.


"I will do you a favor, Athras Eryn; I am a merciful woman, you know," The fox, still watching them from the undergrowth, made a chittery sound not unlike laughter, "I will meet with you and your king on the next full moon. We may discuss terms for aid." He could not know how impossibly lucky he was. Salsola had crushed its last trade partner to dust, and had taken no external offers since. Perhaps he would find out in time, when word from other Outsider groups on the peninsula came, that he was making a bed with snakes.


She pressed one finger to her smiling lips. "And just for you, a present - I will give you my true name. I am Elphaba Revlis, second queen of Salsola, Boss of the Familia."


Oh, she would have him one day. One day, he would be hers. Challenge - accepted.

<style>
.candleelphsimpletext {font-family:'droid serif', times, serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left; margin:0 auto; width:95%; line-height:25px;}
.candleelphsimpletext p.ooc {opacity:0.7; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-indent:0px; padding:10px 5px;}
.candleelphsimpletext p.ooc + p {padding:0px 5px;}
.candleelphsimpletext .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;}
.candleelphsimpletext p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:10px 5px;}
</style>
[/html]
#9
[html]

()

Her words were pretty things, her offer a temptation that however appealing came somehow too easily. She promised him everything...for a price. His quicksilver mind lingered on those words, turning them over and over again, to deflect with a desire she soon denied. How unfortunate...for them both. He had not come this far, he had not been named Regent to kneel before a foreign royal. It was an insult, for surely his line was no less than hers- this queen of thistle and pine.


She was not a woman accustomed to denial, what queen was? This Athras could understand, he yet remembered the day when his brother had been chosen to carry the Eryn line, while he had been promised to a woman from a lesser house, another clan. How it rankled, a festering wound that soured his opinions of those he’d held in highest esteem until fire claimed them...all of them.


A lesser man’s face might have fallen as the darkling queen stepped away, but Athras’s smile was bittersweet. His lips tightened when she declined, but the smile remained. He was gracious, and her words held a bitter truth, a mockery of his own ambition. There was no appeal he could give and the shadow refused to risk what goodwill he’d yet gained for the Realm: his ragged people who had nowhere to go. He was a beggar no matter how well-groomed, a vagrant, a pauper...at her mercy.


Pale fingers graced a stag horn hilt to fall away slowly back to his side as the queen unveiled her decision. The velvet of his ears twitched to the sound of the russet familiar, but paid little heed. He said the words, “we,” correcting them so there was little doubt, I am in your debt.” Athras bowed again, inclining his head, a strand of long dark hair tumbling softly over one shoulder. And knew not what he had done.


At last his head returned to the center held high on his shoulders. There was a moment when his teal-edged eyes widened. He'd resigned himself to titles and imaginative appellations of her visage bright with crimson, but a name...He said little, but knew this to be a rare victory and he was grateful. If only she'd allow him to show her just how far his gratitude could go... "Well met, Elphaba Revlis."

The half-shadow tasted it on his tongue as she had his, adding a name to his desire. He would would think of her for many nights to come.

The Lord reined his thoughts in, hearkening briefly to the sound of the stallion nearby. There were arrangements to be made. “When the time comes, where will we find you?"

<style>
.athtext p.ooc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; text-indent:0px; text-align:center; }
.athtext p.ooc:after { margin:0 auto; content:''; filter: alpha(opacity=60%); opacity: .30; display: block; border-bottom: 1px solid; padding-bottom: 10px; }
.athtext p.wc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; text-indent:0px; text-align:right; }
.athtext p { margin:10px 20px 0; font-family:Noto Sans; line-height:23px; font-size:15px; }
.athtext b.npc { opacity:.75; }
.athtext b.lang:before { content:'< '; }
.athtext b.lang:after { content:' >'; } </style>[/html]
[html]<div class="athras-sig">

<div class="fancytext">Athras</div><br>
<div class="links"><a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.AthrasEryn">Character Wiki</a> ❦ <a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Stormie">Player Wiki</a><br>
</div>
<div id="signature-icons"> <a href="#" class="reply-medium" title="REPLY SPEED: MEDIUM"></a><a href="#!" title="I prefer if you do NOT use graphical tables in our threads. Thanks!" class="no-tables"></a><a href="#!" title="I will roleplay mature material." class="will-mature"></a><a href="#!" class="skill-fighting" title="Athras is skilled with daggers"></a><a href="#!" class="skill-animals" title="Athras is a skilled horseman."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-stealth" title="Athras is skilled in stealth."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-spirituality" title="Athras is a skilled Druid."></a><a href="#!" class="skill-social" title="Athras is charismatic and a skilled politician."></a></div>

</div>

<style type="text/css">
@import url('https://soulsrpg.com/images/icons/postsig/signature-icons.css');
.athras-sig {
margin:0 auto;
width:400px;
text-align:center;
height:320px;
background-image:url('https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/383491898033045504/594714391379705872/athras.png');
background-repeat:no-repeat;
background-position:top right;
background-size:250px; }
.athras-sig .fancytext {
font-family:'Tangerine', serif;
font-size:70px;
margin-right:150px;
padding-top:150px;
text-shadow:#fff 1px 1px 5px;
}
.athras-sig .links {
font-size:10px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
margin-right:150px;
margin-top:-5px;
text-transform:uppercase;
opacity:0.9;
}
.athras-sig #signature-icons { padding-top:50px; }
.athras-sig #signature-icons a { margin-right:15px; border-radius:5px; opacity:.55; filter:alpha(opacity=55%); transition:200ms linear all; -moz-transition:200ms linear all; }
.athras-sig #signature-icons a:hover, .athras-sig #signature-icons a:focus, .athras-sig #signature-icons a:active { opacity:1; filter:alpha(opacity=100%); }
</style>
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Tangerine" rel="stylesheet">[/html]
#10
[html]

Word Count → ??? :: can wrap it up here? ty for a super fun thread <3





She watched the dark waterfall of his hair as the man bowed, a quick and practiced motion.


There were pockets of civility all over the new world. Where the creatures who walked on two legs gathered, epicenters of culture sprang forth from the ground. In some ways, they were doomed to repeat the fallacies of Those who had come Before - they built structures on hallowed ground, stacked hierarchies on bloodlines and ideas of superiority.


But beneath this they were still beasts, all of them.


The similarity would die as it must - with a flash of teeth and claws.


Here, in this quiet little glade bordered by thistles, the man and the woman both played at pretenses older than their names. The lie was conditional. They both needed to uphold it, believe it, if it was to have any substance. A Queen and a Lord Regent were both more powerful than two mere animals barking for attention. With their grand act they could command other dogs to their will. They could dress themselves in finery and drink wine from silver goblets and hold fire in their hands.


Or they could fall on all fours and bay hungrily at the moon.


She would see what the men of New Caledonia were made of, then she would know them for what they truly were.


"There is a strand along the coast," She began, and proceeded to tell him in greater detail of the little beach where they would meet. It was a place she had gone only once, as a child; The furthest she had ever been allowed to venture from the Thistle Kingdom's thorny borders.


When it was settled, Elphaba clasped her hands beneath the folds of her cloak and smiled demurely. "Gods be with you and your people, Athras," Her black lips twitched at theirs corners, "May they keep you in grace until we meet again."

<style>
.candleelphsimpletext {font-family:'droid serif', times, serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left; margin:0 auto; width:95%; line-height:25px;}
.candleelphsimpletext p.ooc {opacity:0.7; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-indent:0px; padding:10px 5px;}
.candleelphsimpletext p.ooc + p {padding:0px 5px;}
.candleelphsimpletext .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;}
.candleelphsimpletext p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:10px 5px;}
</style>
[/html]


Forum Jump: