The Ides of Wither [OPEN]

[Cetus Argenti]

Cetus watched as flesh split into scales and bones merged and fractured and great wings and claws and tails erupted into being. Fire swelled at all sides, as two Sentinels broke formation and - as quickly as he could breath - became dragons. He watched, as they left earth for higher ground, finding perch along the edges of the stadium.

”She did know.”

Cetus felt the current of Mesmer shatter - he stumbled, overcome by the sudden rush of his own emotion, but managed to keep from falling completely with shock.

”Your Queen, however, did not.”

Princeps Cithæra pledged her loyalties, and that of House Phædryn, and the great dragon so graciously accepted. The Sovereign, stunned as the rest of the audience, could only watch. Cetus felt his own heart slow to a still as he realized the immediate danger, here. There were five dragons, each surely strong enough to -

”We are not the ones in danger.”

”Gala, your confidence is -.”

”Deserved,” she replied, a smug warmth catching like fire over their shared bond. ”The Sentinels are supervised by which house?”

Cetus looked at Princeps Cithæra. He looked at the other Sentinels.

”You are safe. Follow along. The giant lizard has - ,”

”Dragon.”

Gala laughed, ”Does it matter what I call them?”

Another prince - half dragon and half elf. Horns arched liked a crown over his skull and wings stretched out from behind him, as he walked up to greet his sire. Cetus felt a surge of worry - and pity - for the newly announced Starborn princeling. True enough, there hadn’t been one not to win the title of Sovereign, but then again, he couldn’t remember hearing of a Starborn against a half dragon and elf.

This was all new.

”Yes. While I am sure there is no elf or human alive that could hear us talk like this, I am not sure the same holds true for Dragons.”

He felt her smile, sharp and dangerous - and disbelieving. ”Perhaps then I should pledge loyalty. Do you think a demon worth enough notice to a god?”

Cetus ignored her; he imagined walls and blocades and various obstacles, all sorts to interrupt and wither Gala’s voice inside his head. She played with all sorts of blasphemies in private, but here her words felt riskier. She was bold and bolder against those things that were insurmountable. Her nature was to see something as grand and impressive as a Dragon, and to challenge it.

And his, at the moment, was simply to survive.

[Pharaoh]

A golden glance darted down to regard Æros curiously as he addressed Aværys. Part of the Majestic Founder was enjoying His passive play at anonymity. He hadn't put much effort into it, He simply wasn't projecting as much of His divine presence as He typically preferred and was shielding Himself from analytical incursions of an ætheric nature. He hadn't adopted a new face, though it seemed Zalkyriax had been wearing His around the city for years, and his mode of dress was a flashy as ever. It wasn't as though he wanted no attention at all. He just didn't want it all at once. Especially now that he was finding the fun in voyeurism, watching this bit of theatre play out on the sands.

He parted his lips as if to speak in response to Æros, but rather than words, a peel of laughter spilled forth. He tipped His head back and when he lowed it again, it was to lift His index finger to His lips.

"Some of us are still waiting for our scene..." He whispered, although watching things play out, He wondered if perhaps it might be preferable to wait backstage until another Act... Turning his attention from Æros to Dæmon, he batted his lashes to the latter,

"Marry, Dæmon, wouldst thou share a spot of wine with an old... acquaintance?"

The two figures still standing in the royal box of the Fortis Lacerta Arena before the face of the great wyrm Zalkriax were doing so for different reasons. Arkænyn, the Platinum Prince, was stunned. His wide eyes gaped and his knees were locked, but eventually the quivering of his legs caused them to give out and he, like the bulk of his cousins around him, fell to one knee- and rather unceremoniously.

The Solar Sovereign Thalya IV Imperatrix, however, stood resolute in the knowledge that according to Solunarian law she was the avatar of the Founders and stood as equal, not lesser, to the lofty figure before her. She was not born to sue, but to command. If this was a coup, then she would face her doom standing- even if that fate came in the form of dragonfire.

Her eyes lowered to find Cithæra casting a prideful, maternal gaze that radiated in her Symphony toward the dragonborn heir to the Crown of Zalkyrion. Inwardly, she cursed. An heir of Zalkyrian and Varværyn blood complicated things immensely. That the Crownwyrm took a Phædryn for a mate was a death knell for the Sanguinist ideology of pureblooded supremacy. The wisdom of dragons who consorted with the Founders in their own time was not something it would be easy to call into question. The primacy of the Unbroken Line was irreparably broken.

Hers had been a reign of moderation and compromise. Perhaps not as glorious as some of her more high-sighted forebears, but they hadn't come up in times like these. She was a sustainer, not a crusader and she'd held the traditions of their monarchy together in spite of seemingly endless threats from every angle imaginable. And for those efforts, she'd reigned one hundred years to the day. This was to be a celebration.

A tear fought past the stoical armour of her impressively impassive countenance, but otherwise her expression did not change.

"Your Exalted Majesty." She nodded to the Crownwyrm as if he was a cousin, and then to his halfbreed Crown Prince... the first of his kind to ever grace the sands of Solunarium. "Your..." She paused, unable to recall the precedent of what form-of-address should be applied to a draconic heir but, student of scripture that she was, she recalled a passage from the Radiant Chronicle in which Aværys referred to Zalkyriax as: "...Exalted Highness."

Her golden gaze returned to Zalkyriax.

"The realm shall rejoice the return of The Concilium Draconum and the Court of the Zalkyrian Dynasty." The realm, perhaps, but not all souls within it. Many would be inconvenienced and worse by this extreme and sudden shift.

"Pardon our timing interrupting your festivities as it did..." The Crownwyrm thundered, "But ere the renewal of fealty oaths was demanded, it seemed relevant." The dragon craned his long neck to scan the assembled crowd gawking from the stands.

"Populus Solunarianus!" He boomed, "I come hither not as usurper to demand the Crown of Aværys from she who now dons it. My claim is not upon all of her realm, but upon half of it. Long has she reigned in her Solar Court under the light of the Luxium, whilst the Palatium Umbrarum lingers in disuse. In courtesy to Her Divine Radiance, we shall hold our court thither. Thus shall the reign over this city be hence split in twain. An Elven court above, a Draconic court below. Our settlements abroad shall be ruled jointly. There are details yet to hash out, but there is time for all that." With steps that quaked the earth, he stalked the perimeter of the arena addressing people on all sides save the centre. He paused, lowering his gaze as his churning eyes rested upon Arcas and smoke roiled from his nostrils as he snarled.

"I have a proposition for Your Divine Radiance." His head snapped back toward the royal box, "I suggest you continue your festivity, but that we withhold the matter of fealty vows and allow our subjects to acclimate to the winds of change sweeping off the desert. Do you consent?"

The Solar Sovereign pursed her lips and nodded ever so slightly. It was a surrender, but it would not be an overt one.

"Good." Zalkyriax stalked away from the stands, and back toward the foreground of the arena where the Sentinels stood behind Cithæra and their son. "Then enjoy the remaining diversions, Solunarium. Make merry through the end of the festival and, when it is through, each of you will have a choice to render. Swear your oaths of fealty ere the 123rd Year of the Age of Steel is upon us. Those who neglect or refuse to pledge themselves to either the Varværyn or Zalkyrian Crown shall be regarded as landless peregrini in the eyes of our regime."

"And ours." Thalya IV proclaimed, firmly. On that matter, she could take an immediate stand. Let their people declare their allegiances out in the open. Had they done so earlier, she'd never have found her position thus compromised.

"Splendid." The dragon grinned, "Then let the festivities continue." He nodded to the other sovereign, and marched to the centre of the sands, where he was joined by the two siblings still on the ground. All three leapt into the air, sending plumes of sand and gale force winds gusting throughout the stadium as they took to the skies, where they were joined by the other two and all flew North toward the Mount.

Squinting, and shielding his eyes from the swirling sand, Arvælyn made straight for Finn and embraced him.

"I watched you perform! You were entrancing."

[Hilana Chenzira]

Her eyes went from Imperatrix to the Crownwyrm, listening as Tiaz settled down around her shoulders, perhaps tighter than usual, but she laid her hand on his side, taking comfort in his presence to steady her emotions and mind in the face of this final announcement. He did relax a bit as she stroked his side with her fingers, and raised her drink to take a sip, looking on as she digested this. But as their wings flared, Hilana’s eyes widened. Oh, no. No, no, no… she silently abjured the air spirits, offering them threads of aether to try to use them as something of a shield from the gusts that came as those massive wings flared and flapped. She brought up her sari anyway to hide Tiaz’s eyes, her drink, and her face from the air and sand that were whipped up, even as the air around her helped to mitigate and reduce the force of the takeoff of the Zalkyrians so that it was just a soft breeze. She peeked out from behind the black and silver fabric in the direction of the Mount, following their flight before she lowered the wrap. She inclined her head to the spirits of air, offering them her thanks, and settled back in her seat once more to ruminate on all of this.

When she saw Arvaelyn head to embrace Finn, that brought a small smile to her face, despite the foreboding dilemma she and the other residents of the kingdom now faced. Just put it out of her mind for now, say a prayer, and roll the bones. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, abandon her friends… but there was something very tempting about disappearing into the Sands to avoid this choice entirely. All the same, she just settled back in her chair. Quiet the mind, quiet the emotions, just... quiet. Her wildness hummed in her bones, crackling like lightning and thunder with adrenaline, but she just had to calm it down. Be still. She had another sip of her drink, her fingertips on her python’s jaw. She looked on at Phocion down there in the sands with his mother, sister, and brothers, at Raithen, and back at the royal box. Her friends or her Gods.

What a fucking choice.

Well, she had another season. Best to get to work. Say a prayer, say several, and roll the bones. Pray to the Founders for guidance, get them a good sacrifice, and hope that this was just some terrifying ploy to destabilize the Solar Sovereign in preparation for the Founders’ return. That this could be corrected and calmed. She had to hope for that, because the alternative was unthinkable. But she was just one little Vastiana, and the girl knew that didn’t have a clue. But... she could had a drink. And a second one would be even better...

[Finn]

The emblem around his brow seemed to tighten, to warm. Finn didn't know if it were made visible, but he thought he sensed the presence of the Moritasi who had marked him. He looked around, but his eyes only fell upon a fellow Vigil who seemed to be both paying attention and listening to something nobody else could here. Strange, but hardly the strangest thing that had occurred. Stranger things were still occuring and he bore witness to all of them. He supposed he would have to start chronicling these things, whether for public consumption or for Arvælyn's records...

Phædryn Arvælyn Princeps Draconum of House Sol'Zalkyrion.

Finn wondered if his name would change again, or if he would still whisper "Arry" into his ear in the dark of night.

His gaze returned to the proceedings, and he watched the improvised ballet between the crowns of Solunarium.

Eventually, his patience was rewarded by an armful of his amatus. He shifted the lyre out of the way and caught his prince's weight; his wings changed his center of gravity, and perhaps other alchemy had been done to his blood and his bones in the presence of his dragonkin. When he pulled away, Finn didn't let him go far. Decorum was already damned if they were embracing here and now. He let his eyes catch his amatus'. No longer golden, he wanted to memorize them anew.

The compliment went ignored; his own work was overshadowed by the intricacy of the politics.

"I was so worried," he whispered intensely. "Nobody would tell me what was happening, not in any certain terms." Now that the pageantry had been interrupted, subverted, and turned on its head, he didn't know what he was supposed to do—stand with the Silver Sentinels, attend his golden prince, or play accompaniment to the festivities. He rather wanted a drink and to take Arvælyn home. Then he had to wonder whether they would remain in the domus in the Luxium, or if they would repair to the Umbrium to attend the draconic court.

At least it was cooler down there.

Though he had been worried, was still worried, he kept his symphony level. There were too many people who had a Rune to listen here in Solunarium.

He smiled, and it was genuine, but once again, he didn't know his role.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

Of the three speakers in Æros' direct vicinity, he very much desired to give the bulk of his attention to only one of them. That being the case, he might as well grace the newcomer with something of a response given his bid for forgiveness and the fact that Æros cannot fault anyone for curiosity. The starlit half-blood was not needlessly mean. Well...sometimes he very well could be, but he was drunk enough not to be too vexed for the moment. The young man's question, however, had no simple answer, and any insight he could offer would have to wait for the dragons and royalty to finish off their discussion down on the sands.

Once the dragons took wing, Æros replied. "Today's events are…unprecedented for a great many reasons. The Starborn heir is a novelty. The half-dragon heir is a novelty. The return of dragons is a novelty. So many truly historic events in one afternoon. Delightful! Quite a bit more fun, this way, I think." The presence of the two divine entities that stood right next to them was a novelty, too, though their identities he would keep to himself; their masks were theirs to remove; it was not his place. "The split of the city above and below is a fascinating path to tread. I…cannot say what all of this will entail in the days to come; I cannot even say what it means for me directly– for the gilded path I intend to follow has still yet to be paved." He spoke with an air of wonder woven into his voice, with anticipation for the future woven into the words. "Exciting times for your arrival, all around, newcomer, but...do tread lightly." The elysian Fæ spoke vaguely; everything still hung ever so delicately in the air. He did, however, intend to align himself with the Founders– whichever path they wanted to pave.

And on that subject, to the Solunarium divine behind him, "...so it would appear the queue to act is a long one…and as always, the best hands have been saved to be played for last." Æros certainly did not want to ruin any of Aværys' plans, carefully laid or not. There was no need for him to say more, much as he might want to; simply being able to speak to the golden Founder like this was a gift in and of itself.

Further still, he did wonder: was Arcas' gift the return of the Founders themselves, though Varvara's potential presence remained unknown, or was it something else entirely?

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Cetus Argenti]

The city splintered. Dual heirs, to the Luxium, and one to the Umbrium; elves above and dragons below. He noted - even without Gala to remind him - the oaths of loyalty in particular.

Either the Varværyn or Zalkyrian Crown.

His father, surely, would align himself with the Varværyn crown. The dragon had dealt a vicious blow to Sanguinistas. He’d paired with house Phædryn and, worse, produced a viable heir. The reign of pureblood supremacy wouldn’t stand well against the repute of dragons; it was well established that the Founders counted them among their dearest allies.

And yet, Cetus’ choice was hardly easy.

His father would expect loyalty. Gala would expect opportunity - and while he doubted she would ever be loyal, as the Varværyn or Zalkyrian Crown might demand, she would be happy to say whatever words pleased them most to ensure her opportunities remained unhindered by the sudden schism.

And, worse, for Cetus, his manse - his job - largely kept him in the Umbrium. He was sure house Phædryn had clear expectations for the Sentinels.

His stomach turned at the choice.

He felt nothing to celebrate. War, he was sure, was all but guaranteed.

[Læbirius]

♅ 75th of Ash, Year 122, A.o.S ♅
Company: His father| Thoughts: So extravagant| Mood: Intrigued

☠ The explanation given to him was one that made his head spin a bit. Dragonborn? Just what were those? He listened more, eyes locked on to the starskin male as his words spun quite the picture in his mind. He wondered to who he and his father would pledge fealty to. The last bit made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, as he knew all too well what that meant from the warning of his father. It was always imperative that Læbirius minded his step as he navigated this place.

Looking back to the stand-off in the arena, Læbirius watched the exchange, feeling every word the dragon spoke in his chest as his voice carried so much power and weight. He wondered what he meant by the change in winds that blow through the desert. He wondered what was to come. The anxiety of not knowing was becoming much for him, but he soon felt something soothe him, nudging him to calm himself.

Turning back around he could see his father looking in his direction, and knew he was calming him so that he didn't make a fool of himself. With that in mind, he turned and bowed to all three men, thanking them for their time, but before he left the golden one that joined them caught his eye. He was beautiful, and the mere presence of him caused the half-elf to blush and move along back over to where his father had been sitting. It seemed things would be shaking up in the Solumnarium soon enough. ☠

---

"Common Speech"
"Vastian Speech"
"Vallenor Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Pharaoh]

R E V I E W

Æros
Lores: 8
XP: 15 (May be used for Masquerade and Semblance)

Cetus:
Lores: 8
XP: 15 (May be used for Summoning)

Dæmon
Lores: 8
XP: 15 (May be used for Scrivening)

Finn
Lores: 8
XP: 15 (To Æros' great chagrin, no magic)

Hilana
Lores: 8
XP: 15 (No magic)

Læbirius
Lores: 8
XP: 15 (No magic)

Injuries/Ailments:
Tipsy Talon sippin' dat tea! (it was wine, tho)

Loot:
All PCs:
Reward #1 (For completing a full round in 24 hours.)
Lost & Found. In the hustle and bustle of a stadium filled with so many wealthy Solunarians, many items were lost or abandoned. Your character may find a pouch containing 500 Gold Aværyan Avens or an item of equivalent value. Please link this review in your CS when claiming your reward.

Reward #2 (For completing a full round in 12 hours.)
Draconic Inspiration. The sparkling spectacle of 5 multi-millennial-old Atraxian dragons has bolstered the spirit of your PC. In addition to the XP and Lores offered above, you may enter the bot command channel of the Discord and roll for a bonus. Use command /roll 2d20 and claim the number rolled as additional XP (may be used for magic). Additionally you may claim half that number (rounded up, if odd) of lores. Please link this review in your CS when claiming your reward.

Notes: This thread was the culmination of plots I've been developing and working toward for over a year. It really means a lot to me that so many of you participated and showed such enthusiasm by moving through rounds so quickly! We all have real lives and commitments, so it's not lost on me how remarkable it is for seven individuals to make time in their days to write in a single scene. Gratias omnes!