Topic: The Half-Blood Guardsman

Arctus

Date: 2016-08-03 18:01 EST
July 27th, 2016. - Maelmarr - 8:32 Am.

Arctus stood in the middle of the room, his shirtless, slim and muscular body tense, near-glowing blue eyes trained on the woman across from him. The trials were nearly complete. He had bested every one of his competitors and now it was just him and Roan. A slender beauty with light brown hair, pulled back in an elaborate series of braids, Roan was a pure blood Seelie, descended from a well-respected line of soldiers. Her body a strong, feminine composure of toned muscle clad in a simple covering over her chest and tan, form-fitting pants upon her lower body. Arrogant, smug, and, for her race, vicious. Many times through the trials, she had expressed a desire to remove the Half-Blood from the proceedings and leave him lying in the dirt where he belonged. But the Trials continued and now, here they were. The two of them neck and neck, squared off with one another.

Arctus gripped his staff tightly, holding it behind him and across his back, waiting for his opponent to make the first move. If he was anything, it was patient.

"You should have stayed where you belonged, Half Blood." she taunted with a sneer. 'It is pathetic that you could reach this stage."

With that, she launched into his attack, a thrust of her staff soaring at Arctus' face. The Half-Blood fae dodged, leaning out of the way and, in the same motion, spun his staff upward to catch his opponent's weapon. His body twisted again, the back of his staff cracking Roan's lower back. The pure blood stumbled forth with a wince, allowing the forward momentum to carry her into a roll, weapon angled behind her.

"Perhaps your time would be better spent fighting than talking." Arctus said a little grin crossing his lips.

Roan grit her teeth and rose, charging forth and swiping at Arctus, then continuing to push him back, their weapons clacking loudly together as they moved through the throne room under the watchful eyes of the council. A place on the Royal Guard on the line, each candidate gave their all. Roan launched into the air, her body spinning and sending a kick straight into Arctus' chest, sending the fae to the ground. Roan's opponent was down, time was not to be wasted. She immediately lunged for him, staff raised to be brought down upon the man's face.

Those blue eyes lit up before he rolled aside at the last second, the bulbous club at the end slamming into the hard ground, cracking the marble as it hit. Arctus steeled his jaw and slammed the end of his weapon into Roan's face. Then her stomach, sending her stumbling backwards. The smaller fae warrior rolled back onto his feet and flipped the staff hard, cracking Roan in the face with a loud whack and a spray of red mist from the woman's mouth. Her body went still before she fell like a downed tree. Arctus was on her in an instant, the edge of his staff at the female fae's neck.

Roan was down, beaten, but it wasn't in Arctus' nature to strike an opponent when she was down. His body relaxed, releasing a cleansing breath and straightening back up, his staff in-hand as he presented himself to the judges. Roan grit her teeth, face contorted with rage as she prepared to attack him from behind. Her mistake was the growl beforehand. Arctus turned, blocking with his staff, then slamming one end into Roan's face and then twisting to strike with the other, this time putting her down for the count. Her body thudded loudly upon the hard floor, lying unconscious and bleeding.

The head of the Royal Council rose slowly, her hand extending upward. Arctus knelt before her, staff set upon the ground beside him as Roan was hefted and removed from the arena.

"Well done, Arctus of the clan Leoden." She announced, her deep officious voice echoing in the chamber. "You have proven yourself, time and again. Surprising even this very committee with your intelligence, honor and acumen in combat. You have shown the very best our people have to offer. Arctus Leoden, you are hereby and henceforth granted the title of Royal Guard. Long and proud may you bear this honor."

The pride that swelled through him was dizzying. His entire life had culminated in this moment. Not only the first Half-Blood, but the first male in recent memory to be appointed to the Queen's Royal Guard. History was being written and he at the center of it.

"Rise, Arctus Leoden: Royal Guardsman."

TwistedGoldilocks

Date: 2016-08-03 18:13 EST
July 30th, 2016. - Rhaenmarr - 12:13 Pm.

The throne room was airy, open but closed off for privacy all in the same way. The room itself is about two hundred feet long, by a hundred wide. Coming through the doors, the archways that loom above look like a very realistic tangle of branches" if it were not for the fact that they were made from golden marble. The floor below is crisscrossed with a trail of swirling and looping designs resembling flowers and vines that shimmer as the light changes. They crawl all the way along the floor up to the throne itself, which was an ornately carved out of what looked to be cherry wood. It looks burnished with gold, and the seat is thick and plush upholstered in what looks to be satin. Behind the throne are great windows, as tall and as wide as the whole back of the room. From the ceiling hung golden drapes and curtains, which filtered the sunlight out, and add a certain ambience to the room. From a dome skylight above filtered a golden light that seemed to suffuse everything within the room.

None of that beauty compared to the beauty that was perched on the throne, clad in a dress that looked to be made of liquid gold, that poured to the ground, and pooled at her feet, shimmering with every movement. Her hair the color of wheat, natural curls tight. Golden topazes glittered and winked from the hollow of her throat, the lobes of her ears, and perhaps even a couple of her fingers. Wide an honeyed eyes watched the man kneeled before her, a contemplative look on her face, as if she were considering something important.

Arctus had kneeled before his queen, head lowered. The living armor that now dwell within him covering his entire slim and toned upper body in colors of brown and tan, creeping up his neck like fingers slithering up toward his face. The process had been agonizing, rewritten his genetics to a certain degree, but it was important and entirely necessary. He had given his life to the Rivelian Royal Guard, both literally and figuratively. To wear it was in and of itself, a death sentence. There was no mistaking its bearers, as one could not fake that armor. All his life, Arctus had dreamed of this. Every bit of pain, every beating received at the hands of arrogant and racist pure-blooded children, every antagonistic laugh and name called were in the past. He defied the odds. Not only a male, but a Half-Blood male was now in the Royal Guard and nobody could take that from him.

He managed to succeed against all adversity and every doubter.

He was here because of himself, and himself alone.

He made it here all on his own.

His father would have been proud, were he still alive, Arctus thought. The wars had taken the Unseelie gentleman when the Half-Blood Fae was still just a boy. His mother, a kindly Seelie had done her best to raise her boy decent and strong. Appeal to his better nature, as she knew there were two sides to the young fae, constantly at war with each other. She instilled good values in him. And it had worked. In the face of adversity, Arctus was steadfast in himself and his duty. She considered him an exceptional soldier and an exceptional fae, but perhaps she was a little bit biased.

Now that he was here, though, doubts ran through his mind, thanks to what was probably just nerves. He'd probably be more concerned if he didn't have them while meeting face to face with his Queen for the first time.

The person he'd decided to lay his life on the line for.

To fight for.

To die for.

In the back of his young mind, he wondered if his life was good enough, no, worthy enough for such a sacrifice.

He kept his head and eyes low, shut. Waiting for her leave to rise.

. She was silent as she watched him kneel, a quiet contemplative look on her face, before she cleared her throat, and gave a lazy roll of her wrist. "Rise. And rise proud, Arctus Leoden. You've worked hard to get to where you are. I'd like to personally welcome you to my Royal Guard.." The words rolled from her easily.

From the gathered throng a pair of envious, hateful eyes watched. Roan, the woman he had defeated in the final trials of combat to claim his place in the court, in history was less than enthused for this male Half-Blood. Roan knew her worth. Knew that she belonged at her Queen's side. Not this...thing. This abomination. He'd stolen it from her, and Roan was determined to get it back...at any cost.

As he rose, her attention would snap towards the rest of those within the throne room. "Everyone but him. Out. I have a mission of delicate matter for our newly made guard." Her words were quiet, but there was a threat that lay within them that kept anyone else from protest being dismissed. No one ever dared to protest against her, as those that did were silenced. Quickly, quietly, and without hesitations, save for one. That spiteful gaze stayed on him a moment as her jaw tightened, fists clenched before Roan allowed herself to get swept away with the crowd. Not today, she told herself.

Slowly, he pushed up off the ground with his right foot, standing at his full height. Bright, impossibly blue eyes revealed as his lids slid open, taking in the sight of his Queen.

His brow furrowed slightly. Mission' He hadn't been told of a mission. In fact, to him, it seemed slightly unorthodox that he be given a charge right out the gate. He'd never say so of course. You don't turn down or question your first task at a new job, do you?

His chest puffed out slightly as his hands clasped behind his back, a stern, obedient look on his face as he awaited his orders.

Quickly, her eyes danced over those that left, until everyone was gone. Then her eyes settled back onto him. "I have something of importance to task you with." As she spoke, she moved to rise from her chair, her dress pooling along the floor as she stepped towards him.

He raised his chin, putting on the practiced air of military precision. Perfect posture, speaking from the diaphragm, feet shoulder-width apart, eyes forward. "Whatever task Your Grace wishes to bestow upon me, it shall be my honor to see it done."

She didn't stop until she was before him, everyone of those deceivingly beautiful features of hers settled on him. "Tell me. What have you heard of my little sister, Eibhlin?" She reached up, letting her fingers move to trace along the edges of that armor of his that was very present, a quiet reminder of what he was now, and who he lived to serve, even with the words that he said.

Stories about Princess Eibhlin were not exactly the stuff of fairy tales. She was often painted as a wild child and the black sheep with no regard for her family's reputation and how people would respond to her antics. He decided diplomacy would be the safest route.

"I have heard...rumors." Yes. Rumors.

"She is often told to be...unorthodox." He said, choosing his words carefully.

"Unorthodox is one word for her. Not sure if it explains it right." She shifted, moved to circle around him, fingers still trailing lightly over that Armor, while that dress shimmered and pooled with every step. "Plainly put, my sister is a monster. An abomination that uses your fears against you, and feeds off of it. Not only that, but she is a vicious little creature, always to act first, lash out like a petulant child. " At this point she had come in a full circle around him, and tilted her head up to fix him with those big honeyed eyes of hers. They were wide, filled with deceiving innocence.

"In fact, she attacked Nirail, my lover. She attacked me, her sister, her own flesh and blood. Your Queen. I was not myself for several days after that." She shivers for a moment, as if the memory of it was too much. "She is out of control, and there is no reasoning with her. I have tried. Time after time I have tried to reason with her. Given her chances to behave. To not have it all come down to this. The Little Monster needs to be captured. I want her back here so that I can deal with her properly this time. "

Though it was dulled by hardened, leathery protection of his natural armor, her touch did not go unnoticed by the young warrior. Were he more thoughtful and less taken with the grandeur of the moment, he might have considered the manipulation currently at play. Instead, he considered it an honor.

His queen deemed him worthy of her touch.

Arctus swallowed hard, taking in her words. The sweet sound of her voice and the story she imparted to him filling his soul with a patriotic need to please her and a confusion in regards to the Princess. Sure, he'd heard stories about Eibhlin, but this" This was treason. He would never have expected someone of the royal family of Rivelian to be capable of it. Those sapphire blue eyes flicked to his Queen, studying her. "Captured." He said as if doubtful. "She will no doubt resist."

Such an earnest young man. So eager to please. To serve. So easy to manipulate.

That was what she thrived on. Not that she would ever admit it aloud, but manipulating, twisting words and actions until she managed to get what she wanted, it was easy as breathing to her. There's a soft and knowing little smile that finds her lips at his words. "Oh yes. She will resist. She will be difficult. She will fight you with everything that she has in her. She will try to leave you riddled with fear and delirious. You." She poked a finger to his chest. "You must be careful. Use utmost caution."

"But she must be captured. I can not stress that point enough. Because wherever she goes, she leaves a trail of misery behind her. No one else needs to be subjected to her terrors." When his eyes flicked to her, she moved closer, closing the distance between them so that it was only a few inches. From somewhere on her being she brought forth a small square of polished metal with rounded corners, and held it up. She blew, something sparked and shimmered, before across the surface, appeared an image of the fae with snaggly blonde locks, and eyes one could get lost in. Silent, she held it up for him.

His heart thudded away beneath his chest as she closed the distance between them. He was no stranger to difficult, unwilling targets. He'd been through it more than his share of detaining high value marks for his commanders. This was just on a grander scale. Those cerulean orbs turned to the object in her hand. He had seen her, albeit sparingly in propaganda or the like, but usually hidden off in the background. She was the black sheep, he knew that much.

Arctus had never been outside Rivelian, but he assumed a woman with eyes wide as tea cups and those wild blonde locks couldn't be too hard to find, could she.

His head turned slowly and took the square, holding it within those tough hands. This had been an eventful day. A Half-Blood male defeated all of his competitors, proved himself to be worthy of the station of Royal guard, his Queen had graced him with her touch and honored him with a special mission. The pride that was his this day was immeasurable.

"I will find her and bring her before you, Your Grace." He said solemnly, memorizing the face of his target.

She pulled back when he spoke, and grinned. "Good. I want her alive. You can rough her up a little. She does heal fast." There was another step back, before she took him in fully, from head to toe. "Just keep in mind, If you come back, come back with her. Or don't bother coming back at all." There's a quiet threat underlying those words, even as she brings her hands up and rests them on his shoulders.

Those words echoed in his brain. If. IF he returned. Many times in Arctus' life he'd been in a position when his safe return was not a guarantee. But this was different. It wasn't just death that might prevent him. If he failed, if she could not be subdued...it would be the end of his life in Rivelian. Whatever greatness and glory the future promised him could be snatched away in an instant, and it would all be for nought.

He turned his proud, stern gaze upon the royal beauty before him and nodded firmly. "As Her Grace commands."

"May you go well, and be wary of my sister." This was murmured as she leaned up to bestow a kiss to his brow, his eyelids sliding shut as she did. "You are dismissed."

Arctus" eyes opened slowly, his right arm crossing at his waist as the left hooked behind his back. "Your Grace.? He uttered simply. The Half-Blood Fae dropped into a bow before taking his leave. He'd feel her eyes following him the whole way, until he was gone from her sight.

Arctus

Date: 2016-08-03 19:14 EST
August 2nd, 2016. - Maelmarr - 11:03 Pm.

The blinding light swallowed him whole as Rivelian blew away like grains of sand around him, the light and beauty replaced by darkness...cold. It chilled him to his core, leaving the Half-Blood shivering. Slowly, it gave way to the warmth of the warm Rhy'din summer air. His breath came out in one last heavy exhale of steam.

Arctus blinked, his senses regaining stock of themselves. The creaking of ships, the faint sounds of music and drunken carousing coming from the many inns. His armor retracted, melding into his flesh until no trace was left, leaving him shirtless, in nought but a pair of tan trousers. A cool breeze rolled across his bare skin, raising goosebumps all over.

It was different here. Less warm, less welcoming...and it smelled. The odor of fish, gunpowder, sea salt...nothing like the pleasant scents of home. Here, it was harsher, more alive, more dangerous.

The cobblestone streets were uneven and unnatural beneath his bare feet as he made his way along toward one of the many full taverns. Sapphire eyes peered in through the grime covered windows, scanning over the many sailors, thieves, and other such scoundrels that occupied Dockside. Their attire was strange, a mishmash of different styles he could not identify. Some very...he would say rustic and closer to home, others in more simplistic, almost alien garb to him. (Hoodies and jeans and the like...)

He almost didn't hear the 4 men that approached behind him. "Look at this ****in" guy." One of them said, laughing derisively.

Arctus turned quickly, fighting the urge to bring out the armor again. Now was not the moment, he realized. Not until they had proven themselves a threat. A kind smile upturned his lips as he nodded a greeting to the strangers.

"Good evening, Gentleman. How does this night find you?" he greeted them pleasantly.

They were young, brash, clad in darker colors, their eyes bloodshot with dark bags beneath. Tell-tale signs of some manner of intoxicant in their systems. The largest of them snickered. "This night 'finds' us pretty ****ing great. What you doin' out here by yourself?"

His choice of language offered no comfort. Arctus' eyes flicked from one to the other, sizing each man up. Most of them were rather scrawny, hiding their long, thin limbs beneath loose clothing. They would be no match for him, he knew, but he'd rather his first night here be tainted with violence.

"God, look at his eyes, man. What the fuck is that?" One of them said peering at those luminescent blues.

"What kind of shit are you on and where can I get some?" the biggest of them said, drawing snickers from his companions.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." He noted every movement as they gradually began to push toward him.

One of the boys made a face, shaking his head. "You're a weird mother ****er, you know that?"

Arctus had about enough of these urchins and their mouths. "And you are in dire need of lesson in manners. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I'll be on my way."

He began to step past when the tall one put a hand on his chest, halting his progress. Arctus looked down to that and slowly back up to the young man. It was becoming clear that these guys were just out looking for a fight. The Fae just so happened to be the one they came across.

"Where you going, pal?" the thug sneered.

"I would caution you to reconsider this course of action. You can see I have nothing of value to you. I've no money, no valuables. This needn't end in violence." He said calmly, eyeing each of them. He began labeling them in his head. The Tall one was 1. Behind him was 2. 3 was unsuccessfully trying to conceal a lead pipe. And 4 just looked blitzed out of his skull. Laughter spread throughout the 4 boys.

"Oh, it 'needn't'?" The tall one said, mocking his formal manner of speech. He brought up a fist, showing off the scabs and scars that decorated his knuckles. "See this" You know what this is from?"

Unafraid and un-amused, Arctus' gaze shifted from his fist to his face. "It would appear they are from fighting." He nodded matter-of-factly, his tone dripping with disinterest.

"Damn straight." He smirked. "This night is gonna find you in the ****in" gutter, bleedin" like a stuck pig."

Arctus" smile faded, those eyes flicking up to the lanky mugger. An "o' shape forming on the kid's lips as he chuckled.

"Oooooh-hoo-hoo-hooo".that's a real scary look, buddy. What's that supposed to do' Make me run away?" He leaned in close. "You do. not. scare me you little twink."

Arctus continued watching him, eyes like a predator locked on the boy, every sense extending outward to detect the faintest hint of attack. "You have one last chance to walk away, my friends. I suggest you take it." His voice was dark, foreboding, but they were high and stupid. Too high and stupid to see death inches from their faces.

The tall one's confidence flickered a moment, but then he just shrugged. "Eh. Take my chances." He threw the first punch, a vicious jab that Arctus effortlessly caught without even breaking eye contact. Those blue eyes locked on his assailant's, his fist squeezing and slowly crushing that hand.

The tall thug hollered as he heard bones pop in his fist, this unassuming stranger was stronger than he could have possibly guessed. The next thing he knew, the blue eyed target's palm slammed hard into his sternum with power of a baseball bat. The unprepared lad was lifted off his feet, the very breath ripped out of his body, and went flying back, landing in gasping heap with his head bouncing upon the cobblestones.

For a moment, there was only the sounds of his gasping and wailing. Then the other's came in. Arctus moved quickly, throwing an elbow into the nose of the second of the four, strings and drops of blood spraying in the cool night air. He never stopped moving, ducking under a lead pipe swung by the third that connected with face of the fourth. Arctus put his shoulder into 3's chest and jack-hammered his fist into the boy's ribs viciously putting him up against a wall. The young goon cried out as he felt that fist crack through his ribs, leaving no doubt that they were broken.

Four recovered and came for him from behind, putting him in a choke hold. Quickly, the Fae Guardsman backed him into a brick wall, forcing out a pained grunt. The grip loosened enough for him to reach back, his arm catching the young man around the neck and then yank him, head over feet and slamming his lower back against the hard, steel edge of a dumpster. Three lay upon the ground, sobbing and cradling his broken body

The second took advantage of the momentary distraction,breaking out a switchblade and bringing it down at the unsuspecting Fae's back. But the blade did not cut through skin and muscle...instead impacted on something hard...strong. The blade bent to one side as that nigh-impenetrable leathery, layered armor spread across Arctus' back from beneath his skin.

The warrior fae's head snapped back, catching his aggressor wide eyed and stunned. Armor formed and spread out across his left arm as he whipped it backwards, his knuckles crushing loudly into the boy's face. His body moved with the follow-through to bring his right arm flying down to hit him again in almost the same exact spot. But, that was not the end, he twisted around, bringing up his leg to roundhouse kick the lad one last time across the temple, sending him flailing, unconscious onto the dirty cobblestone street.

His chest heaved slightly as his breathing evened out, holding his stance a moment until sure they were done. With a quick *SHICK!* his armor retracted back inside of him, drawing a slight wince across his features. Extending and retracting the armor wasn't an altogether pleasant feeling. In fact, it was downright painful.

The Half-Blood Fae turned his eyes on The Tall one as he tried to scramble away. Arctus moved slowly and pinned him to the ground, stomping a foot down onto his chest. "The garment you're wearing on your torso...give it to me."

With his one working, fumbling hand he unzipped his hoodie and struggled to pull it off. Arctus assisted him and yanked it off his bad arm, a pained groan escaping the lad's mouth. "Just t-take it!"

His eyes moved down to the shoes...they seemed like they would fit. He reached down and began undoing them. "Oh..Aw...no, come on, man, not my shoes..."

Arctus shot a look up at him that said "Do you REALLY want to argue with me?" The thug did not. He sank to the ground and just let him take them. Arctus pulled the black hoodie over his bare torso and zipped it. Shoes in his hand, he was ready to depart.

The boy stared up after him, still terrified. "What the hell are you?"

Arctus didn't answer. He just pulled up the hood and continued on down the street, disappearing into the Rhy'Din night.

Arctus

Date: 2016-08-05 13:31 EST
August 5th, 2016. - Cynmarr - 2:00 Am.

What was happening, he wondered" Everything he'd been told about the Princess was thrown into doubt with one simple meeting. He'd been lead to believe that she was a dangerous, almost vicious beast by his Queen, but the woman he had met tonight was nothing of the sort. While she WAS a bit odd, she was actually rather...charming, he'd say. He knew she didn't trust him. She would be wise not to, to be honest. The Half-Blood had a great poker face, and didn't betray a thing, yet he felt she could see right through him at times. She had a life here. Someone who cared about her. Their closeness and displays of affection implying more than simple friendship. She seemed more terrified than the dangerous outcast he'd been told about.

Arctus pushed his way through the doors of the Hostel he'd chosen to make his home for a few nights (until something better came along), stepping up the stairs and headed for his tiny room. When he opened the door, he nearly jumped. A veiled figure stood, back to him, staring out the window.

Immediately, his armor formed with that slight *SCHICK*, covering his entire body as his fists clenched into tight balls, ready to fight. But the figure did not attack him. She just turned slowly.

"You may relax your body, Guardsman." Her voice low, dignified, ethereal. "You'll find your fists are of little consequence here."

Confusion covered his face as he slid the door shut behind him, relaxing only a little. "Who are you?" He asked.

The veiled figure turned to face him, lifting her covering to reveal the unmistakable features of a Fae. "You did not seriously believe we would allow you to roam this realm unsupervised, did you?"

They were watching him. But why send him if they already had spies here"

"Because I am NOT there." she answered his thoughts. "Your gift of armor is not the only thing dwelling within you, Artcus Leoden."

"What are you?" He whispered hoarsely, as if fear wrapped around his vocal chords. Those luminescent blues wide and steadied upon her.

"I am a shadow. A whisper in your mind's eye. I am with you, on behalf of the Queen, to ensure that you complete the charge that has been made your's."

The woman stepped toward him, disapproval upon her face. "We have a growing concern, Guardsman. You are showing signs of weakness. Of doubt."

"I was not told the whole truth." He said indignantly.

"You believe you are entitled to this?" She said with an arched brow, studying her charge. "Your duty requires you to carry out your orders. Not question them."

He tried to calm himself, find a way to express his grievances without being disrespectful. "Her Grace...she did not tell me the Princess was a Half-Blood."

"Ah yes." She said, an antagonistic quality to her voice. "Your Half-Blood status. Perhaps you feel a kinship with the girl?"

"What she told me sounded VERY famil-"

"The girl is manipulating you, Guardsman." The woman interrupted, her tone stern, amplified within his mind. Arctus stopped, staring at her for a long moment.

"Were you not warned of this?" It was not a question. "Were you NOT told that the girl is manipulative" Cunning?" Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Dangerous. Were you not told that this is the same girl who attacked your Queen and her consort?"

"I...I just...I have my doubts after meeting her?" He tried to explain, knowing full well it would not be accepted.

"She will say...do anything to convince you NOT to follow through with your duty." The strange woman stepped around the small room, looking at it's dingy quality with a not-at-all veiled disgust. "You need to be stronger. Put aside your past. Remember who you ARE. Not who you were."

Arctus nodded slowly.

"You fought a long, difficult battle to reach your station, Arctus Leoden. Do not throw it away out of sentiment. Remember why you are here. Remember what is at stake." An ominous tone cut through her voice that gave him chills.

"I...I will gain her trust." He said, the confidence slowly returning back to his voice.

"Good. See to it that you do." She said with a graceful nod. "Our connection is...imperfect. We may not always be able to watch you...but we will be keeping a close eye on your activities when we are able. Is that understood?" Her tone betrayed no sign of that being a real question.

The Half-Blood stared at her, swallowing hard. With that, he just nodded.

"Do your job. Or we will see to it that someone else will." The Shadow gave him a pointed look. "Remember...you are not the only one who can suffer for your failures."

His thoughts went to his mother...she remained at home. Living in relative squalor, looked down upon by her fellow Seelie. Eeking out a saddening existence she did not deserve. His failure could mean worse for her"

Far, far worse.

Roan

Date: 2016-08-06 23:55 EST
Viseria Roan centered herself, eyes sliding shut as she blocked out the world around her. Her breathing was slow and calm. At peace. Nimble fingers brought the blindfold up, covering her lids and tying back behind her head with a tug. Blind to the world, she reached behind her, drawing a pair of twin daggers.

"Begin." She said.

At once, heavy bags began swinging her way, the warrior ducking under one, and slashing outward, cutting it open at the back side. The next, she planted a foot down and spun away, thrusting her blade back with her right hand, stabbing where an enemies kidneys would have been. Continuing her forward motion, she blocked the next with her left forearm, pushing forth and stabbing repeatedly where an opponent's gut would be before shoving it aside.

Without missing a beat she reared up leaping and jump kicking the next as it came for her, moving around it in a wild spin, the light from the outdoors glinting off her blades as they cut slammed through the covering on the bags that were coming from either side. The strong, muscles in her arms flexed as she threw the bags forth, still impaled on her daggers.

Breaking into a run, she twirled them, and just as one of the targets was about to strike, she dropped to her knees in a slide across the marble floor, bending backwards as it passed over her, barely missing the tip of her chin. Before her slide came to a halt, she rose to one knee and twisted her body, throwing a dagger into the bag's back.

Not a movement wasted, she was up on her feet, dagger held in a reverse across her body. Her body moved to one side, letting the next bag almost pass before she threw a strong arm out, clotheslining it and running that knife along what she imagined would be a throat.

Her body was a graceful, whirling ballet of death as she came to her last target, about to bring her knife down when a hand caught her by the wrist. Before she could even react a palm slammed into her chest. A gutteral sound left her throat and echoed into room. She felt almost as if her heart stopped beating for a moment before a fist connected with her jaw.

The Fae Warrior hit the ground with an echoing thud. Rage filled her, the desire to slaughter whoever had done this. She spat blood upon the ground and stood, pulling her blindfold from her eyes to find Lyrasia Roan, her mother and legendary General within the Rivelian military, standing there. Her uniform crisp and immaculate upon her lithe form. Boots gleaming in the mid-day light with a perfect polish. The woman had moved so silently in the room even Viseria could not hear her.

Lyrasia stared down at her daughter, hands behind her straight back, a look of silent contempt upon her face. Viseria blinked, a look of shock replacing her rage as she knelt obediently.

"Mother." She said in almost a whisper. "I had not realized you'd returned."

Lyrasia moved past the genuflecting girl looking toward the path of destruction in her wake, an arch to her brow as she studied it. "I suppose you are proud of this?" She said in a derisive tone, glancing back at her daughter.

Viseria turned her head back to her mother. "I have trained long to hone my senses and-"

"And defeat bags of sand." She said simply. "Well done." Lyrasia's voice dripped with sarcasm. "A shame you are not so effective upon a living target."

"Mother...I-"

"Silence, Child." Lyrassia stepped towards her imperiously. "You have sullied my name, Viseria. My mother's and her' You have embarrassed your clan and you have embarrassed me."

The Fae Warrior's eyes dropped along with her shoulders.

"Really...A Half Blood." She spat the words contemptibly. "You allowed yourself to be defeated by a Half Blood. This is unacceptable."

"I was-"

"You were cocky. Arrogant. Prideful. Sloppy! If you wish to debase yourself with this manner of foolery, to treat this as a game, you are welcome to it, but, the gods as my witness, I will NOT let you take this family's good name down with you."

Viseria kept her eyes lowered to hide the pain and rage from the acid of her words.

"Do I make myself clear?" Lyrasia demanded.

Viseria turned those grey eyes up to her mother. "Yes, Ma"am."

The General turned. "Good. I have made arrangements with my contacts with in the Council to meet with you. You will report to them and offer your services in whatever manner they see fit BEFORE mid-day tomorrow, is that understood?"

Viseria nodded. "Understood."

Lyrasia eye-balled the girl for a long moment with a cold, heartless stare. "Very well."

The Warrior stayed down, awaiting her mother to take her leave. The older woman scoffing indignantly. "Get off your knees, Child, you look pathetic."

Her bootheels clacked upon the marble floor of the cavernous training room as she made her way out. Viseria dusted herself off and wiped the blood from her lip. Gods, that woman infuriated her. It was rare that her mother ever complimented her. In fact, the Fae was fairly certain the closest she'd ever come to getting one was when she had graduated from the academy and Lyrasia had commented that her uniform made her look less scrawny.

Not the warmest lady, her mother.

Viseria gazed at the destruction she had brought upon the training bags. Normally, she would be swelling with pride at a job well done...but now" Now it seemed pointless. A vain exercise that meant nothing, proved nothing. Now, all she could see was her failure. Failure to live up to her name, her mother and herself.

It would NOT happen again. She swore it.

Arctus

Date: 2016-08-24 15:15 EST
As the days passed, Arctus had become closer to his target. It didn't make things easier, knowing the end game of his mission. There were times he was forced to remind himself of his purpose and why he was doing this.

He was being watched. He could never quite tell when, but hey were monitoring his progress. He was beginning to feel the inklings of regret for everything. Eibhlen was attached, in love, even with the stranger who called him Murrel. Friendly enough fellow, but Arctus didn't quite get the attraction. In the few times he met with both of them, he felt very much the third wheel. Still, he knew the man was important to the girl and wished him no ill will.

It would be tricky when the time finally came. He hoped to avoid a struggle. In all honesty, he would be struggling enough with himself at that moment. A fight would not help matters.

Why had they sent him' Him, of all people? A Half-Blood with a similar background to her...a good heart. Someone who would empathize with her. It seemed counter-intuitive.

But it wasn't his place to question his orders. His was but to follow them. And the time was coming that he would have to do his duty. More than one life depended on it. He just hoped he was up to the task.