Years of Erde - Shadows Fall Role-Play

[Jub Jub376]

OOC: The Sign-Up for this Role-Play is in the Sign-Up Section. Please just post your template there and await my response before posing in this Role-Play. Thanks.


IC:


Birds chirped outside the pale glass windows, and sunlight attempted to creep though the black silk curtains that were drawn. The ashes in the fireplace and packed against the grate told a tale of a flames that had burned the night before. Silver-framed, glass encased portraits lined the mantelpiece, and over it all, the Greys' crest and coat of arms, emblazoned upon the sin-colored metal of the shield that hung; A grey wolf, with sapphire-blue eyes, snarling admist a black and white field.

The chest at the foot of the bed was closed, and the two sets of dressers, every piece of furniture made of the same dark cherry wood, no doub, were shut as well. On the coat peg nearby the door hung a black trenchcoat, with a low cut collar, silver wolves entwining on the sleeves. A jewelry box layont he great dresser, a mirror built into its wooden frame.

A writing desk sat at the other end, a few feet from the door, and a bookcase stood nearby. A lamp adorned the writing desk, alon with numerous sheafs of parchments and pens and ink bottles. Everything was at peace, as dawn broke to mid-morning, and the house was quiet, and all was in serenity and peace int he atmosphere of the country manor.

Fenrir Twizen awoke soundly, his raven-black hair with its blue tips blocking his vision, and he brushed it aside, his arctic-blue eyes soaking in the atmosphere of the quiet room, the calm sunlight, the serenade of the language of birds.

He pushed the covers of the four-poster bed, in which everything was black- velvet comforters with wool sewn within, silk pillows with goose feathers stuffed inside, the sheets made of a wool-cotton mix, all black- taking care not to awaken his sleeping partner as he ascended from the bed and laid a passionate, loving kiss on her closed lips, and let the black silk curtains fall over the bed as they were made to, and walked out of their bedroom, his face formed in a peaceful smile, as he gently closed the bedroom door, and walked down the stairs, also made of cherry wood, taking care not to cause the steps to creak.

Fenrir made his way into the kitchen-a grey robed man with shaggy light brown hair and ocean-blue eyes was already at the table, drinking from a silver chalice boiled wine, red as Fenrir noted- and sat down, facing the man with a look out of the bay windows.

"Good morning Fenrir." the grey man said, moving the platter with silver cups and a teapot, silver, holding the same red boiled wine,. "A peaceful morning, is it not Xoran?" Fenrir asked ina half-statement, pouring himself a cupful of the wine of the warm blood-crimson alcoholic substance. "Of course Fenrir, of course." the Grey Knight replied, looking out the bay windows as well. "Peace at our hearts if not at our friends." Xoran said, taking a second sip of his wine.

Fenrir smiled. Nearly twenty years since war had ravaged the Grey Republique and the White Kingdom. It was nothing mroe than a mere memory now, yet there were those who deigned to become the next Viktor Twizen or Carcaroth, even the second Xoran Grey.

Sadly all those tales told of grief, and madness. No simple man can take that kind of pain.

Movement was heard, and Xoran' grey robes rustled as he got up, setting the empty chalice in the basin made into the kitchen counter, and he walked out of the kitchen via the back door, taking a quiet stroll inthe garden, as if he had read his descendant's mind.

Fenrir only sighed, glad he had no part in this war half a world away, from Viktor had told him of it, and that his family was safe, and out of harm's way.

_________________________________________________


Ice-blue eyes flickered, an beneath a wave of red-gold hair that familiar bone-white grin emerged, as alwas with the immortal sadist, even as the white snow fell and the bone-chilling wind blew around Castle Wolven, home of the Greys for nearly five thousand years.

Viktor Twizen.

Since he had taken the name, all those years in Angru Thailios, people had feared him. Few people knew him personally, and of them knew of him, and did not fear him. So much for those old nursery tales. They compliment too much, and make me worse than Carcaroth sometimes.

Viktor Twizen sat in the soft-cushioned chair, his booted legs and feet folded atop the oak desk infront of him, as he viewed the servant, whom was dressed in likeness of him. Grey robes I ordained for the servants, and it lasted all this time. Perhaps my descendants feared I was hidden amongst the serving number, perhaps not.

It would have not changed his plans. Now his chosen task was to prepare the Grey Republique and the White Kingdom for the soon to come assault from the Armies of the Lord of Shadows, legend and myth having been said that they had ne'er been defeated.

The Midnight Legion was Orodruin's preffered offensive piece, with the Shadow Army had been his homeland defense. The Midnight Legion knew of Czarian and Rhuzan tactics, and reveled in the fact they had beaten the Czars and Rhuzans in the game of war since Time began. Along with the Vincaryans, but that ship sailed with the Plague. The Midnight Legion and the Shadow Army had never encountered the Armies of the Wolf nor the Dragon, much less the FreeLords.

Elizabeth Viral. If only she had not..well it was of my making as well. to think that I aided in slaying the first Viral, yet here I am aiding one of the last to survive these conflicts that threaten us ever so. I will drown in irony before Erde is consumed in the Fire.

Viktor sighed, informing the servant of his message. "Remind Kier de Westu that although he may be elder, I am still in charge. Xoran is not here with us, so I must rely on the Visigoth to oversee the new levies for our armies, and for him to train them."

Xoran had always been with Viktor, aiding him and vice versa. Yet since Fenrir and Elizabeth had moved into that manor in Thenden, and Elizabeth borne and birthed their only child, daughter, and hir, Anastasia, Xoran had become less and less the man Viktor had known. The only irony was that the vey manor the Twizen family dwelt in held the resting place of Xoran's dead wife.

Any man would seek revenge on Zhark Orodruin. The Dark Lord knew what would happen ere Rowan of the Lords of Light Accepted the Choice. Now Xoran is an emotional barrier, blocking me form my goals.

As the servant left, a figure, cloaked and clothed in black, sat down in Viktor's lap, her emerald-green eyes flashing devilishly, as she lounged against his grey-robed chest, her breathing in time with his.

"Carcaroth has not been found, my love." Vyra Orodruin-Twizen said, half whispering in his ear, nipping it lightly, yet fierce as ever with her teeth. "He is gone, as he informed me of his intentions. I gave him allowance to leave." Viktor replied, nuzzling his head against her neck, inhaling the sweet scents of her sable hair. "The Warg Knight did not inform me of anything, Vaier." she retorted, his green eyes flashing once again.

"He still doesn't trust you, Vyra, as it seems. Despite that twenty years ago you aided Kalios Kator and sent your own father, Zhark Orodruin, to Oblivion. Funny, the only good thing is that Carcaroth hasn't tried to murder you yet." Viktor said, grinning his devilish smile of bone-white teeth.

Vyra's arms found their way around his neck, just as his wrapped around her waist, and his lips mets hers, moistly, passionately, their lips' embrace locking and unlocking, and locking again as they kissed another passionately, and Viktor's worldly troubles vanished, and Time seemed to only stop in his lover's prescence, his lips on hers.

_____________________________________

Darkness veiled overhead, as eternal night gripped the Lands of Shadow as it always had, and the hawkers and sellers still remained in Angru Thailios, amid the crystal lamp-lit streets and avenues.

The City of Light had never changed with the passing of years, only its residents. The Citadel of Night still stood, and beneath it the Cavern of Oblivion, and the Oblivion Throne itself.

Twenty years were no real time of chaos since the Dark Lord's passing, the residents and merchants still favored the protection of the Lord of Shadows' titles.

Zeke was his name, or it had belonged to someone else..no matter. It was as good as his, his since the last time the Nightmare King had stripped a mortal of soul and body.

Zeke had been allowed the body for his yearning to live again in the World, and for being loyal to the Black Knight for nearly ten thousand years, since Angru Thailios had been built by Zeke himself.

He had been given a picked body of hs own, one gave him the physical build of a man in his prime build, and in his twenties, with somber, blue eyes, and almost white, blond hair that hung short. He wore the robes of a Sarlen'gal, the blacker-than-night robes with their silvery threads woven in given him a stark look, as he wore the hood pulled up, the ring on his left index finger silver, with a blood-red ruby set into its surface.

He never knew true fear, not he, who had traveled the World during the numerous wars, admiring the acrhitechture, the arts themselves. Zeke himself played the harp on occasion, and was known to have a meledious voice, worth that of the ten finest bards in all of Erde.

He entered the Cavern of Oblivion after a few moments of walking into the Citadel of Night, and taking the bottomost stairs the very Cavern itself, and stood before the Oblivion Throne.

"The Warg Knight rallies men about him at the Ruins of the Hhonzburg, my Lord." his voice was cool and crisp, his teeth white as the stones of the Temple of the Sun had been in Vincarya, long before the Plague had struck.

"Then we will meet him, Ezekeal. We will meet him, and Time's Wheel will turn, and Fate herself will find it hard to make our own destinies for us whom dwell in the World, as I will be leading my men personally. This will be the End, but for me, or for Kalios Kator, that is for our might and strategism to decide." spoke Voice, dark and commanding, echoing off of the Cavern's walls.

Light-blue eyes flickered open in the pitch-black darkness, and a smile creased the scarred face of the Dark Lord, as he drew Zhiran, the Soul Reaver, its grey-blue blade flashing in the shadows.

[KH_Fan_4_eva-2]

OOC: Sammii Demanded I write a reply XD

IC:

Gently she turned the page, but appearntly not Gently enough, a sharp pain stabbed through Anastasia's finger, she quickly lifed it and watched as the wound opened and blood started dripping out.
She placed her finger in her mouth and sighed, this happened too many times. Using her other hand Ana grabbed a piece of paper and put it in her book, she then closed it and put it on her side table.

She got up and looked out her window, The sun had just about risen by now, but telling from where it was in the sky it was still quite early. She knew for a fact her father would most likely be up by now, he was an early riser after all.
And no doubt about it her Mother was still in bed, you couldnt make that woman wake up this early even if you tipped water over her!

Ana took a quick glance around her room, her bed was still messy from that night, She had, had a nightmare and decieded that she would stay awake just to be sure that the dream would not haunt her dreams again that night.

She checked her finger, It had stopped bleeding slightly, that would do for now.

Her eyes quickly darted to her left where he reflection was in her Full length Mirror, She looked alright for someone who had stayed up most the night. But unfortunally she did look like a big blue blob.

Her Blue PJ Shorts just finished before her knees and her Darkish blue top was slightly to big for her, yet, somehow she could pull the look off.

But on the other hand, her hair looked bad. Usually she would have it up on two small pigtails on either side of her head, but she always slept with her hair down.

Her Mother always said she looked beautiful with her hair down and should keep it like that more often, But only once or twice would she ever have it down.

Not caring how she looked like, Ana quickly walked to her door, Pulling it open, then quietly closing it making sure not to wak anyone up, Basically, Trying not to wake her Mother up or she would have to face the whole day of her Mother being an Angry, tired wreck.

Slowly walking down the hallway, Ana tried as hard as possible to keep quiet, Finally she got to the stairs, at that momant she thought she was safe, Yet still walked quietly towards them.

And you know when you try your hardest not to do something, then it happens? Yeah well, That happened to Anastasia alot.

Suddenly she tripped on her own foot and started bouncing down the stairs with loud Bangs and thumps, finally, after seemed like forever, she finally hit the bottom floor with a loud bang.

"So much for being as quiet as possible..." Ana said to herself as she began to stand up, she then brushed all the imaginary dirt on herself.

Knowing that there was alot of chance that, that just woke her mother up Ana quickly rushed into the Kitchen where she found her Father.

"Hey Dad, Your up a bit early this morning, arent you?" Ana asked her Father as she entered the room.

No Reply.

Ana was used to this, you would never control Her Dads mood, One momant he's Happy, the next its like someone just hit him round the head with a Bat.

Going with the flow Ana decided to grab an apple and sat Opposite her father, she took a glance at her finger, it had stopped bleeding Completely now.

She smiled and Continued to eat the apple.

[Eternal Snow]

Elizabeth awoke, from a rather strange dream. Though that’s really nothing out of the ordinary, considering all of her dreams were strange. Especially, the one where she turned into a cat. . .

She shook her head, her bangs falling in front of her face as she pushed herself up so she sat cross-legged on the bed. Fenrir was usually up before her, so she never really had to worry about waking him up. Even if he wasn’t awake he was still one of the heaviest sleepers alive. She rolled her eyes as she flipped her bangs to the other side of her face, where they were supposed to be.

Her hair was a lot easier to manage after she cut it down to it’s current length. There was less to deal with, and it didn’t get caught up in everything like trees, bushes, etc. She finally decided about two years ago that having hair going down past the middle of your back was ridiculous, no matter what. So now it’s just above her shoulders, and it was going to stay that way.

She sighed and stepped out of the bed, and past the silk curtains that surrounded it for one reason or another. She never quite understood why they were there, unlike most women, unnecessary decorations were not her thing.

Elizabeth, or Lizzii, walked over to a mirror nearby and put her hair into a short ponytail, that didn’t, or rather couldn’t reach lower then the end of her neck from her hair’s current semi-short length. She was wearing her short sleeved black shirt and a pair of her black jeans. Her red long sleeve shirt, that she usually wore under the black short sleeved one, was probably hiding somewhere in the room.

She yawned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Then walking down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Everyone was usually in there this early in the morning. If not there they were wandering one place or another. Ana was usually out with friends most of the time. Fenrir was, well Fenrir, so he was usually all over the place. God only knows.

Elizabeth sighed, both Fenrir and Ana were inside the kitchen, and it was still completely silent.

“So. . .what was that really loud crash I heard about five minutes ago while I was trying my hair up? I’m guessing someone accidently fell down the stairs again.” She grinned and smiled trying to start some sort of conversation, “Looks like being a klutz is hereditary.”

She laughed softly as she walked over and took a seat next to Fenrir. He was un-usually quiet this morning, or at least it seemed like he was.

She smiled at him, trying to get him to cheer up, or at least show some kind of emotion. He as probably thinking about something he really shouldn’t be again. All it takes is one small thought to get his brain going on another ten soon after.

“So are you ok Ana? Being a klutz sucks, I know.” She rolled her eyes.

Elizabeth knew very well how much being a klutz sucked. She herself had fallen down those stairs at least ten times before. The “invisible curb” tripped her, as usual. It was her only excuse.

[Asian Blade]

Flash

The sun beamed through the Window into Sergie's Room, hitting his face and warming it so much that it eventually woke him up from the heat. He sat up and thought, *Ah, My face! Why is it so hot?!?!?!* He put his hands against in a effort to stop the soothe the heat away. After many squints and discomfiture filled sighs, he finally put it past him and moved out of bed. He turned himself to the side and pushed away his Navy blue sheets. It was a small bed with little in the room. The room looked pretty nice, mainly wood and contemporary decorations. Almost everything in the room seemed to be made of wood, all but the Mirror in the against the wall, laying in the center of it, which Sergie then walked to, to look at himself.

He walked slowly and pushed himself to push past his will to go back to sleep. He finally made it over and looked at himself. *Sigh, it's another day, alone.* He put his right hand on the back of his neck. He was feeling a random discomfort there. *Great, well whatever. It'll be gone soon enough.* He kept looking in the mirror at himself. The Black hair running all around his head, with the orange eyes looking at themselves. He put his hand into his hair, trying to fix it's messiness that was created in his sleep. With little effort put into it. Then he realized that it really could be fixed until after he washed up.

He moved into his washroom (and without getting into much detail about it since no one wants to read that stuff) and washed himself up. Sergie got dressed in his dark clothing that was laced with gold trimmings, and moved downstairs to the lobby. He walked down the fleet of stairs into the Lobby that was about the same decorative design as his room. Although, it looked more Cabin like and didn't seem as Appealing to Sergie as his Room did.

Light Gleamed out of the windows in this room as well. The air was thickly laced with a Pine like smell for some reason and it was rather refreshing. Sergie made his way to a table that was in the middle of the lobby and sat down on a chair.

There was the Owner of the Inn who went by the name of Jack. He stood at a counter inside the lobby to work with people you wanted to stay. Jack was ok friends with Sergie, even if the two never really talked to each other. They became friends only because of seeing each other everyday for a while.

"Jack! Whats for breakfast this Morning." Sergie said. Sergie was sitting in a way that Jack would only see the back of his head. He faced the same direction that Jack did as well. Jack replied, " Bagels. Here Catch!" Jack then threw a bagel at Sergie.

Sergie turned around not knowing at was going on at first. "What?" he said. Then he caught the bagel out of instinct. The bagel was very hot and Sergie immediatly dropped it on the table. "OW! What is this? Are you trying to burn me?" he yelled out in distress.

Jack laughed in the background and Sergie just shook his head no. He let the bagel cool on the table while he picked up a new letter that was on the table before Sergie came. He began reading and found an article about the War. He began to read it but then quickly found himself in disgust. He was done with fighting, something he just wanted to push passed him. He picked up the bagel and took a bit out of it.

"When Are ya gonna be Checking out?" came from behind Sergie.

"Today." he replied with quick reactions to the question.

"Really? You mean, you have all your stuff packed? Why didn't you tell me this before?" Jack was freaking out a little bit. He liked knowing stuff before it happened and this was a bug surprise, seeing how the two had become decent friends.

"I did, but you were drunk." Sergie said and laughed. He got up and walked to Jack. "Don't worry, I'll come back and visit sometime. For now, I've got things to do and stuff I have already set my mind on." He put his hand on Jack's Shoulder and left to get his stuff.

Upon entering his old room, he took a black suitcase filled with his belongings. He looked around the room to make sure that he didn't forget anything. Once he was sure that he didn't he soon moved on to leaving. He walked downstairs once more and said to Jack, "If I forgot anything in my room, please don't throw it away. In fact, take it as a good bye gift. I'll see you later. " He then left the Inn.

Back in the room, Sergie had only left one thing. His bagel that had only one bit in it.

What Sergie was planning to do in his mind was to set off for Theden. He was going there to settle something that was lingering in the back of his mind that he felt that had to be settled before it got too out of hand. His Grudge with his Older brother Fenrir that was set when Sergie was rather young.

[Eternal Snow]

Ok, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but JJ's mom took away his laptop, and he's not allowed on it for a very long while. (It's a long story.)

So even if we were to take control of JJ's character(s) (with his permission of course) we still really couldn't do much with teh RP, considering it's his, and even though he would explain how to do it all to me in a heartbeat I still really couldn't. JJ's storyline is a "bit" complicated, lol.

So we have two choices;

1) We continue with the RP, and basically just do whatever.
2) We stop the Rp for now and await JJ's return.

Somehow I think the 2nd one is better for now, considering that we're only four posts in, and it wouldn't be hard to re-start from here.

Either PM with what you think, or post here. Though pming would be best, then we wouldn't be filling up this RP with slightly irrelevant posts.

So yeah, as of now I'm basically JJ's voice. =P Considering I'm the only one with any way to contact him.

Pm me about what you think, thanks.

[Jub Jub376]

"I woke up early." Fenrir said to Ana, and holding a hand over his face leaned toward her ear. "Your mum kicked me in her sleep AGAIN!" he whispered, and smiled innocently at Elizabeth.

"We're all klutzes in our happy little family Lizii!" he said, getting out of his chair and taking a apple up and biting into it. "We're just mff-" he said, mouth full of apple.

He fell over onto the floor with a bang, fast asleep, curled up on the floor next to the table, a piece of apple sticking out of his open mouth.

__________________________________


He was Rowan Kelagaarde, second in command of the Lords of Light, The Arcanist. His fierce hazel eyes could glare down any foe in his politics, and his dark brown hung at a length, with its streak. He wore his usual dark brown tunic and breeches, as well as his black leather belt and matching boots, the silver buckle on the belt gleaming faintly. Ossiriaand, The Silver Horn, hung from the thin platinumn chain that crossed his clothed chest diagonally left downward from his right shoulder.

And she was Releane Leirion, his one and only love. Yet she was mortal, whereas he was immortal. He had existed before Erde had been made in the Maker's Song of Creation, and he had participated in the forging of the World through the angelic chorus.

And yet he had loved a mortal, and given up everything for her, and even made a deal with the Devil Divine himself....the first to Accept..The Choice..


Xoran shook his head, his ocean blue eyes and light brown hair quite a different look than what his figure had once been. Once he was powerful enough to break the World with merely a flicker of his hand. Now he was merely a fraction of that power, but once he was unbound of that fool Choice, he would be reunited with..her..

She loved Rowan Kelagaarde, not Xoran Grey, though she knew both of us. He was full of life and hope, where I was full of despair and sadness. And I had to watch her fade slowly away, until she was dead and buried, and my heart with her.

Tetra Dragskulian will fall to me and mine. The Greys have been the most powerful House in all of Erde for nearly fifteen thousand years. We held the Grey Republique, and the White Kingdom, the Free Cities, and even portions of the Lands of Shadow during the Era of the Lords of Dusk and Dawn.

I will.."AUGGHHH!!!" Xoran said, screaming and writhing in agony in his little cottage in the garden behind the Twizen Manor, and everything went black, followed by a flash of light.

_________________________________

"March! One-two-three-four! One-two-three-four!" Kier de Westu was training the pikemen today, it seemed, as Viktor espied out the window from within the Wolfen Tower. The Frozen Legion would soon be ready to deal death even to the soldiers of the Armies of Oblivion, heroes and villans of past Ages and times, unbeaten by all, except for the Lords of Light, when they had all been full eight in number, when the Twilight Wars raged betwixt the Lords of Light and the Lords of Oblivion.

"I'd much prefer foot over cavalry. Much more damage dealt to just about anyone in your path, and you save money that would have been for oats." he said to himself, smiling, whilst puffing away on his pipe.
________________________________


A hand grabbed the edge of the sink, and the man pulled himself up, eyeing his figure in the mirror. Dark brown leather tunic and breeches, black leather boots and belt, with a silver buckle. The Silver Horn hung from his right shoulder as it always had. And his eyes..those same fierce hazel, with the lengthy dark brown hair and its single white streak.

He was Rowan Kelagaarde, The Arcanist. Second in the Lords of Light to only Baelron Skarlen, The Hand of Light himself. By the Creator's own hand, it was good to be back...yet that meant..

Tetra Dragskulian, you are mine. Traitor to every cause but your own. You will see my Dragon Banners once again, and we will dance the deadly dance known since the beginning.

[Eternal Snow]

“It’s these moments that make me regret changing my last name from Viral to Twizen.” Elizabeth laughed while slowly walking over to her husband’s unconscious body.

Hmmm, to be completely evil, or just somewhat. That ‘tis the question.

Lizzii’s smile only grew wider as she finally reached Fenrir and stomped right on his stomach about five times. Which would surely wake him up. If not, she could always stomp on another area. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about getting pregnant again for a very long while.

“I guess I’ll just be somewhat evil for now. . .”

She smirked and took a seat next to her daughter, “We’re horrible influences on you, Ana. Though sadly you’re stuck with us ‘till you’re eighteen. I’m pretty sure if you knew my father, a.k.a your grandfather, we would look pretty damn good to you.”

Lizzii bit her tongue for a moment. Ana didn’t know what happened to her mother’s side of the family. Last she had checked, Fenrir told her what happened to her grandparents on his side, but never her side. For good reason too. He probably didn’t want her to get any “bright” ideas from her mother. She took after Lizzii a "bit" too much already. Though if she hadn’t killed her father like she did then Ana wouldn’t have been born, and she would still be living in the White Keep.

She cringed for a moment. Life while her father was still breathing ‘twas not pretty. Though in the end, she never regretted choosing to kill her father over Fenrir. Her life would be completely different then how it is now if she had.

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

OOC: Obviously, Snail Boy (JJ - Jub Jub376), is letting teh RP goez on. =P Mainly cause Sammii made him. >.< I 'twas bored, and we all know that I have uber control over JJz. Cause I'm K-E-W-L like that. =P

[Jub Jub376]

Rowan Kelagaarde stepped into the kitchen via the backdoor, and eyeing the three beings within. A raven-haired man lay curled up on the floor, fast asleep, and his..lover seemed to be stomping on him. And their..possible child, with her father's raven hair, and a mixture of both her mother's red streaks and her father's blue streaks, making her raven hair with purple streaks.

He embraced serlan'gal, the Light half of Magic, and felt the power flow through his veins. He could almost cry in remembrance of the last time he had taken ahold of it.

So sweet, yet my brothers fear me nonetheless.

He bowed to the two women, and the man fast asleep. "I am..Rowan Kelagaarde..I'm not from..around here.." he said, shifting his hazel eyes this way and that, and he soon dashed past them and up the stairs, the Silver Horn clanking lightly from the platinumn chain hitting it as he strode along.

[KH_Fan_4_eva-2]

Ana Laughed, "Well, I don’t mind really, you two are fun!" She said grinning, "By the way, what was Grandpa like? You've never really told me about him..." She said trailing off.

Ana then turned to look at her Father lying on the floor; she laughed and took another bite out of her apple.

She looked at her mother, knowing that she would most likely that she wouldn’t answer her earlier question she decided she might as well go.

"I’m going to go get changed, okay?" Ana said rising from her Chair, not giving time for her mum to answer, she walked out the room.

She slowly padded her feet along the floor, finally getting to the stairs. She started walking up the stairs, taking a bite out of her apple every few seconds.
Soon enough she got to the top, watching the floor, she managed to step over where she fallen before.
She grinned and continued walking; she then lifted her head to see herself walking smack bang into a wall.

"OUCH!" She yelled rubbing her head; she then carried on walking towards her room and opened the door.

Slamming it behind her she grabbed her usual clothes and walked into the Bathroom and got changed. She looked at herself in the mirror then picked up a brush and carefully brushed her hair.

After finishing brushing her hair she sighed and put down the brush down and looked at herself.
She was always told about her beauty from people she knew; however, whenever a boy would tell her, she knew that he wouldn’t last long with her Over-protective Father.

She walked back into her bedroom and put her PJ's on her bed. She walked towards her desk and sat down; she stared down at the pieces of paper in front of her swarming with words that she had written.

She loved Writing, but if she found anyone reading anything she had wrote, she'd floor them, no joke, they'd be on the ground before they could say 'Sorry!'

[Eternal Snow]

“Fenrir!” Lizzii whined, giving up. She had been trying to get him awake for awhile now, and yet nothing happened. Her husband was a complete idiot, and completely serious at the same time. It was annoying. Though like she said, heaviest sleeper alive.

She laughed a bit, and took the apple out of his mouth while shaking her head. These are the moments that make her regret changing her last name. Though she still loved the goofball to bits.

“Come on!” She yelled, “There’s a strange man walking around the house! And ANA your DAUGHTER is upstairs, where he is, CHANGING!”

She paused for a moment. . .remembering what Fenrir had done to previous guys that got close to Ana that weren't realted to her in any way. . .

“. . . and he’s her age too.” She whispered softly in his ear, smirking. Knowing very well that this dude was more like Viktor’s age then Ana’s. Though that was probably the best way to wake him up.

Just in case it didn’t, she got up and grabbed a butcher cleaver from a cabinet and then walked over to Fenrir’s body again. With a very, very wide grin she yelled, “Butcher cleaver!”

[Jub Jub376]

Arctic-blue eyes shot open wide, and Elizabeth stood over Fenrir with a butcher's cleaver in her hands, and evil nasty grin on her face. His eyes grew wider.

He was gone before you could say blink, in blue-and-black flames.
________________________

Rowan Kelagaarde studied the room about him. Some guest's room or whatnot, but then again, things were never as they seemed..he hid behind a door as the daughter of the two lovers walked in the room, and shut the door, taking no notice of him. He seemed to just not exist...

..until he was tackled down by the girl's father, the mans hands seeming alight with blue flames, yet Rowan did not feel them burn him. He was oblivious to the heat, and he grabbed the man and threw him back with such a force he could see tiny balls of the man's saliva float around in the moment of zero-gravity.

They knew he was here, when he wasn't supposed to exist. That could be...bad..

[Sorrow]

OOC: I just signed up. You can check out my template. Btw, JJ, you'd make an awesome writer.

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Xeyron awakened from his sleep. He was a light sleeper, for nightmares frequently invaded his mind. The labyrinth of memories was not a pleasant place to be, especially during nightly rest.

The sun was warm as it caressed his face. He had slept on the ground, under a tree, for he was walking to Castle Wolven. Walking was a great hobby of his and he preferred it over horseback. He walked to a nearby stream and washed up, staring at his waving reflection at the same time. He saw a young man with slightly tanned skin, violet eyes with a far-off look in them. He saw long, dark blue hair. But most of all, he could see the look of shadow, the look of one who was always alone, constantly ruled by that mysterious presence called the heart.

He looked away from his reflection. He got up from his knees and ambled over to his small pack. It contained necessary things: food, a journal, a knife, a cloak, and a map of Erde. Water was supplied by the constant rivers that snaked this way and that throughout the land.

Xeyron withdrew a few pieces of cold, dried beef, the remnants of his food stock. Chewing on them vigorously, he stood on the lone hill and looked at Castle Wolven in the distance. He would reach it at approximately sunset as the hawk flies.

Tying his pack to his waist, he set off. The stream made a quiet, watery sound. Woodland animals drank from its cold banks, their tongues lapping up the refreshing water. Strangely, the birds were silent this morning. The path to the castle was long and thin, with many forks and twists. Along the way was the occasional small farm or orchard of apple trees.

He wanted to go to Castle Wolven because his soul commanded him to. It would seem that Fate played a big role in his destiny, and that the shadows within him were merely a herald that brought in tidings of his next destination. Why it commanded him to go to Castle Wolven, he did not know, but Fate never deceives, Fate never does anything without reason. It would take someone with sufficient power to alter that fixed system of things.

Perhaps he would join the Grey Republique and ascend among the ranks as a respected warrior. It would not do much good. He already had all the power he needed, and he didn’t want to be ordered around by some snotty general.

A couple hours later, he had just about covered a mile. He looked at his map. Erde was certainly a vast place. There was Thenden, where the famous Fenrir Twizen dwelt. The continent of Zherkan, which was a shadowy place where always his deepest darkness commanded him to go. Luckily, he stayed in the Isle of Wolves. The threat of war loomed ever closer, but Xeyron was ready to fight for whichever side Fate commanded him to join.

According to his map, there were seven miles between him and the castle. He was at a point which he decided to call Raven’s Beak because it was a boulder that was split in the middle partly, making it look like a beak of a bird. It seemed to be a favorite perch among ravens, hence, the name.

Xeyron sat with his back against the split boulder, resting his feet. He had a sudden sense of dread. Something, however distant in the future it was, was coming; something big, something intimidating. Xeyron was sure he’d be a part of it.

[Eternal Snow]

Lizzii smiled, Fenrir was a complete idiot. So it was time to go find him. He probably teleported himself to Ana’s room, so he could keep her away from the ‘younger man.’ Even though he was way older then Ana. Which actually only made the situation worse. A five thousand plus year old man basically raping her sixteen year old daughter.

As she finished that thought, there was a sudden thud coming from upstairs, which would mean someone hit a wall. . .

Her eyes bugged out for a moment, oh please let that have been Fenrir. . .

She rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs going to her and Fenrir’s room first, getting her Sais and his sword, just in case. Then to Ana’s room to find that Fenrir was the one who hit the wall.

Thank god, she thought as a sigh of relief washed over her. Not because her husband got threw into a wall, but this weirdo wasn’t trying to rape her daughter. . .yet.

“Dude, I seriously suggest you get the hell out of here.” She stated more like a demand then a request, as she walked over to Fenrir and bonked him on the head with his own sword, which was still in its sheath, of course.

Ana seemed oblivious to this, or just confused. This was probably the most action she had ever seen in her entire life, considering her parents kept her far away from stuff like this. For good reason too, she didn’t need to worry about fighting ect. Fighting was for the adults to handle, and playing around was for the kids.

Still Elizabeth hated it when she had to fight. Granted, she can throw one of her Sais over fifty feet if she had to, but that doesn’t mean she wants to. She just can. Though close range fighting like this was better to leave to Fenrir anyway. Mainly because her martial arts skills are non-existent and Sais are close range weapons, except when thrown.

Basically, Lizzii was only good when some guy was trying to run away. She hit the target almost every time. Proven by the fact that she nailed her father with a small dagger right in the heart when she had to kill him.

Who the hell basically broke into her house anyways? She wasn’t paying attention when he said his name the first time, mainly because she was trying to wake up Fenrir. Though the question she really wanted to know was; Why did he think he could introduce himself and not be interrupted when he rummaged through her home blindly? It takes someone seriously stupid to not realize that people won’t like it if you randomly walk into their house and start looking through stuff you shouldn’t have your nose in.

She sighed, both of her Sais in place. If she had to she could throw one through the guy’s skull. Though she’d rather not make a bloody mess in her daughter’s bedroom.

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OCC: Sorry if it's not good. -__-" Sammii's tired. >.<

[Sorrow]

Xeyron was three miles away from Castle Wolven.

He had dozed off at Raven's Beak, and was an hour behind schedule. Already the sun was sinking low in the sky. It seemed to laugh at him, saying, "You're such a loser."

Xeyron ignored what appeared to be a taunting sun. He wanted to get to the castle fast and restock. He loved beef way too much to run out of it.

Twilight approached. The insects began their melancholy orhestra. Xeyron thought he would probably get there in an hour or two. Maybe three. What he didn't want to happen was to have some foolish group of thieves attack him. Oh, he could take care of them easily, he just didn't want to be delayed...again.

Xeyron heard hoofbeats behind him. A moment later, some galloping horses stopped beside him and addressed him.

"Would you like to join the Grey Republique? That's why you're going to the Castle isn't it?"

"Actually--" Xeyron began to reply.

"Then you're in luck! We are drafting."

"But wait a minute--"

"Now, now, war isn't that bad." He then whispered to his partner. "Tie him up."

Before he could react, Xeyron was tackled by a big, burly fellow with sour breath. Next thing he knew, his hands and feet were tied and he was gagged with an old sock, riding to the castle.

If this was how the Republique treated its recruits, then he didn't know why he even considered joining them. But there was nothing he could do.

[Jub Jub376]

OOC: Raven's Beak does not exist, though nice creativity. I'm going to have a map up on the sign up thread as soon as possible. Also, Castle Wolven is on the Isle of Wolves. The map should clear up ANY geographical problems. Thank you.

IC:

Hazel eyes filled with serlan, the Light half of magic, enhanced his vision, yet as Rowan eyed the mother walk in, wielding some form of shortswords he had never seen before, the father picking up the sword she had half handed, half-struck him on the head with, fear flooded his brain, even as he clutched the silver lockbox that was the girl's, against his frame.

Only precious few would know that a Lord of Light need not to fear, all eight were of the eldest of the Maker's children. Yet this family was..different, it seemed..They were..

Visions clashed inside The Arcanist's head, and even as he clutched his head in piercing agony, crying out the one name he could recall admist his pain.

"Releane!!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, even as the flashbacks entered into his mind..

"I love you, Rowan Kelagaarde. Why would you wish for me to love another, when I already have you?" Releane whispered in his ear lovingly, kissing his lips moistly as she lay against his chest, his arms wrapped around her figure, as her head rested againt him, her light brown hair brushing against his neck, her green calm eyes closed..

"NO!! Releane!" Rowan cried, tears streaming down his face, twisted and constorted by sadness and hatred.

"Arke dvorak vhitreich!" The Arcanist said, holding on to serlan, and he disappeared in a column of light, one hand gripping the handle of The Silver Horn, another holding the silver lockbox that had been in the girl's room, which had a lock, but no key.

Rowan's lockbox.
___________________________________

Viktor could only imagine a prisoner to be dragged in his office in Wolfen Tower, Castle Wolven, on The Isle of Wolves, High Seat of House Grey..until two fools dared to bring some stranger in, a man wiht long dark blue hair and silvery violet eyes.

So The Grey Wolf performed his usual routine, and upon finishing his most recent drafting papers, lit his pipe, and soon after smoke rings began to float about him and his unexpected visitor.

"So tell me everything, everything you think I would have a cause to want to know, Xeyron," Viktor said, never asking the man's name at all before," anythin at all, where you come from, your past, your goals, anything you think I would give my own soul to learn of." he said, fingering his pipe.

It was a..curiously carved pipe, and curiously made. Given to Viktor during his stay in Angru Thailios, where a man could die, and be reborn, yet as something else all the same. He had been given it by none other than the Dark Lord himself, once the twisted man had learned of the relationship betwixt Viktor Twizen and Vyra Orodruin. Zhark Orodruin had it made of platinumn and onyx, sapphires and emeralds.

Two dragons, entwined to make up the pipe and the pipe bowl, and the mouthpiece was silver. The Grey Dragon was ade of platinumn, with beady sapphires for eyes, whereas, the Black Dragon was made of onyx, with emeralds for its sight.

"As for myself, Xeyron, I am Rektor Grey, one of the finest military generals, taticians, diplomats, and loremasters in the World. Fate herself cannot shape her weaves around my destiny, and neither can even one of the Trinity, Trebor Nad'roj, Master of Time's Wheel, himself, cannot mold me into his ever-changing patterns."

"Most know me as..The Lord of Chaos." Pipe smoke flowed toward the sitting young man as Viktor ceased his talk. "I would more than enjoy your...company, Xeyron, but I-" The Grey Wolf was cut off by a sudden flash of light, and a tall, dark-haired man appeared, fury and sadness in his hazel eyes, and a single white streak in his dark brown hair.

"Where is Releane, Vaier?" the stranger asked, but Viktor did not dare correct him.

Danger loomed over Viktor's head like an anvil ready to fall atop him. Rowan Kelagaarde. Keeper of Ossiriand, The Silver Horn of Light. The Arcanist himself in the flesh. The Lord of Light could hold far more of serlan than Viktor could ever hold, even if he lived to be ten thousand years old.

"Releane, Rowan?" The Grey Wolf replied, his ice-blue eyes fixed in concentration below his mane of red-gold hair,"She has been dead for some time...since your oaths to..his..Lordship o' the Dark."

"I will break that man, and send him to Oblivion myself!!" Rowan shouted, and turned to Xeyron, still sitting in the chair, his fierce hazel eyes burning a hole in the young man's face.

"YOU! You are naught but one of his, you Zhir'harhain!!" Rowan shouted at Xeyron, grabbing the man out of the chair and holding him stretched out a good few feet above the floor by invisible cords.

"You sell your heart to the Oblivion Throne, in exchange for a blade forged by The Corrupter himself?!? Kal-zhirrak made many blades with sarlen, the Dark half of magic, and they all turned on their masters in the end! I hope you suffer the same, you and any lover you will only take you to the Centre of Oblivion!" Rowan shouted, as light-blue lighting bolts leapt from his hands, shicking the man with the fury of the arcane arts.

"You defy the Maker's plans to create your mortal kind, and you dare to make dealings with The Traitor! Burn you, and all your kind that seek his pathetic excuse for favor!" The Arcanist merely ceased the offenseive of lightining bolts, and only continued to glare.

"Then I should just rip your soul out myself. Your..Choice..to Accept..that fool's question of alliance bring you no further to the very power you crave. The Traitor allys himself with only those weaker than he, and avoids those that are higher in true power than he. You are decieved, and I await your Trial and Inquistion of you by all eight of the Lords of Light. Rhalin Merzohn, The Harbringer himself, will rip you to shreds with the gauntlets made for him by Aolmpeghaa, when the Twilight Wars began." Rowan ended, snapping his fingers, and causing a puffball to float above his head.

"Vaier, I will take charge of this man, and he will be under my legion in this..Grey Republique Army. I want only the finest soldiers and footmen that The Visigoth can muster for me, and only six thousand will do. And I want spare Grey garb as well."

"Of course Rowan." Viktor said with his sadistic smile that spoke of things worse than death. "Of course."