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[P]  trappin out the mansion

Offline Severin Apr 2 2020, 4:52 PM
  • Dorsum
  • Age: 36
  • Gender: Male
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: King
  • Total Posts: 29
  • Played by: Maddy
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February 1476

The great winged beast lands with an inexplicable grace upon the rocky shores of the island, the merciless waves of the Kasiéan sea crashing just out of reach of the mount and its riders. The White Lion makes his exit from the back of the creature, his gaze shifting momentarily to The Brass Hammer before his eyes turn to the towering structures within the capital. Tall peaks surround them no matter which way they turn, and though the skies are drenched with the light from the afternoon sun, the clouds are large and somehow still threatening of storms to come. "I can see why you call this place home... Unpredictable, violent; it suits you," an off-hand quip as he moves in the direction of Halha, allowing room for the woman to insert herself in front of him, if she has not already, so that she may lead them to the Koning.

He finds himself upon an island full of Eximius that have pledged themselves to the extermination of humans; and yet, Severin does not discard the possibility of finding a common ground with Giruvaga. It is sure to be an interesting - if not unprecedented - meeting of Kings, and Severin can only expect of him what Sullivan has already explained. Due to the unstable and violent nature of the Vanderhal Islands she has advised him to leave any guards or ambassadors in the safety of Dorsum, and therefore this gathering alone demands a dangerous level of trust from the Dorsum King. Blue-green eyes trace the smaller but muscular frame of the tigress as she traipses with confidence and pride and he realizes that the majority of their encounters involve a perhaps unhealthy amount of trust from him. Sullivan has awarded him more opportunities than one - she has brought him victory against his enemies, she has played a part in Dorsum's success, and there are many things about her that are positively addicting. It is a risk he is willing to accept.

Before long they are within the center of the capital and before them stands the residence of the Koning and those he keeps. Bright, seething eyes are immediately trained upon the pair as they approach the castle, the walls of which are lined with a multitude of Eximius. They are quite unlike the majority of Eximius he has met, for most of them do not bear any sort of resemblance to the human figure. Nevertheless, they continue forward, and soon come into the company of the Koning himself. Glowing golden eyes meet his own, and upon a throne of bones sits a hulking man draped in dark fur and scar tissue. "Koning Bacalou," he begins in greeting before offering an introduction, "I am Severin Fæúlfur of Dorsum. Thank you for inviting me to Halha."
Offline Sullivan Apr 3 2020, 6:17 PM
  • Giruvaga
  • Age: 33
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank:
  • Total Posts: 28
  • Played by: Onii
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"Speak less during the flight and you'll get there in one piece. ...Spend that time remembering what I told you last night."
Before departing for Giruvaga, the woman had told him these words. Their previous night's discussion about this excursion of his had been met with trepidation from Sullivan. But there was some amount of respect for his bravery--or foolishness--that drove him to this avenue. As a result, when all the fire had fizzled from her throat and all that was left were the pair of eyes that the Human man was familiar with from their childhood, a constructive reaction was waiting for him. Just as before, just as always, Sullivan gave him advice. Detailed in nature, the many what-ifs covered in a way that was deceptive of her background; more a strategist, a chess player, than a mindless demon seeking to devour the sun. She commanded him like a unit she'd once had beneath her Ballasburnaan control many years ago but just as it was for them, the reason behind this was more caring than the tone of her words were. As was typical of her.

And then she proceeded to scold him just about the entire way there, sometimes for things he'd even yet to do. A wrath he couldn't escape, and an annoyance she couldn't escape. Being stuck together on such a long trip was...a recipe for less savory dishes to be sure, but at least he hadn't been hit.

That would have been in bad taste, all things considered.

The graceful mount skipped his steps as he landed effortlessly, massive wings folding as his hooves hopped with the remaining momentum.
Sullivan slips from the reignless steed, her scarred fingers releasing their loose grip at the pommel of the saddle as she found her footing as steady as ever. "I can see why you call this place home... Unpredictable, violent; it suits you," Severin was the first to speak. She's no stranger to their back and forth, quips here and there (and some more aggressive than playful...) but for once she doesn't play along with him. Fitting that his description of "unpredictable" would do it, because it pegs her accurately now more than ever. She slips in next to him, the alicorn following loyally behind, the sound of many weapons clinking against the saddle's hard detailing. "Do you really think that, Severin? ...That it fits me here." there's a silence, but he of all would be able to tell that it's not the same kind of quiet that waits for an answer. "Don't compare the two. That'll make you vulnerable in ways today that you..are not. with me." even if he was as dense as she accused him of being, he would still catch what she's telling him now.

Despite that, she is no more aware as always. Eyes sharp, steps precise but heavy, stride meant for destination and not beauty. When they arrive she lingers her steps, slowing as Severin slips from her side and continues forward to address to Koning.
Bacalou Apr 4 2020, 10:52 PM
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Long gone were the screams and the pleas for help, silenced beneath the veil of death that had been delivered swiftly and mercilessly by the hungry weapons of the Koning and his butcher. In the case of the beast Bacalou had on one of the handful of tables at the back of the keep his snarls and howls had been robbed of him. This could be seen with the gash to the front of his throat, once pristine cream pelt stained with red that continued to trickle from the smiling wound. The quiet hung around them, filled only with the wet squelching of rearranged organs, Inteus elbows deep in the human whose body lurched and twitched only with the movement of rummaging hands. Bacalou took a step back, his own arms bathed in the crimson ichor, and found the rack of weapons set off to the side. He didn’t need to dwell on the options for long before he lifted one of the various axes to heft it in his grip. Long limbs carried him back to the table with the draining dire, an ear twitching as yellow eyes traveled over the length of the dog’s hide. Inteus watched from the corner of his field of vision, though he continued to work with a precision that might have been surreal to witness from the volatile duo. The human’s rib cage was being cracked open, the painted hound’s clawed fingers wrapping around the bone to bend them back. Bacalou poised the ax, and took a step to let it swing down with a deft motion.

The head of the curved blade sank through the air with a topheaviness that bit into the wolf’s neck. It cleaved through the bone and muscle, a heavy thunk burying it into the wood beneath the corpse. Bacalou’s tongue ran along his scarred muzzle as he watched the severed head roll to the ground with nothing left to hang on to. The human’s had already fallen into the basket at the head of the Inteus’ table, a harsh huff of breath exiting the butcher as if in laughter. The moment the horns sounded down the path into the capital the Koning’s tattered ears swiveled backwards. Hearkening to it, the synchronized bellows signaling the arrival that had been anticipated all morning. Bacalou’s nostrils flared, broad chest expanding with a deep breath as he shook his head out with a roll of his shoulders. Inteus turned towards him, waiting and watching with nothing more than a crazed look within his eyes, and Bacalou sneered. One of his own, or so it was claimed during the Trials, would be arriving in the keep in no time with the horns as close as they were. With the human King in tow, the one who had wished to speak. Vanderhal had taken some time to acclimate to the change in crown and still had time yet before Bacalou would find it to his satisfaction, but there was familiarity to be found in the hatred of humans. Many of the eximius here had been slighted, not all of them so eager to take advantage of the experiments as Bacalou had, so in that hatred there would be kinship.

Bacalou leaves the ax where it had been buried, bending at the waist to reach and take the heavy head of the dire in one hand. Claws curled around the sharp teeth within the beast’s maw, lifting it up from its place in the dirt as the remnants of its blood dribbled from the clean cut. His laksman only needed a pointed look to begin moving, walking around the other tables as his Koning collected the human’s cranium in his other hand. Inteus waited beside the back door for him to pass through first, tall and proud as he always was, and with the butcher at his flank they found the throne room. Bacalou had already made himself at home here, the throne itself a grotesque facsimile of what it had once been with the macabre décor the hyena stacked upon it. Mutated eximius lined the walls of the narrow room, banners of the late Khan ripped away to be replaced by Verdoem’s own as the walls themselves bore paintings telling the story of the tribe before arriving at Vanderhal.

Behind the high-backed throne itself depicted the conquering, Bacalou ascending the steps to find where the spikes had been previously planted for just this very reason. A message, perhaps, or merely an added flourish to the already vulgar ambience. The hyena first mounted the head of the wolf, two hands utilized with a snarl deep in the chest as the spike was forced through the skull with a sickening crunch. Then came the waxen head of the human, at the base of the steps on either side of the main walkway. Their mouths hung open, glazed over eyes staring out into nothingness as Bacalou slowly took his seat to wait. Inteus joined him in the smaller chair down a level at the side of the throne, settling in with more energy than Bacalou displayed.

They were not kept waiting long. Only moments later the tall, carved doors swung inwards with an echoing of their weight. Onder het stopped there as two figures strode past with a purpose. Bacalou could smell the human immediately, dull eyes finding where he sat slouched and relaxed. His muzzle lifted to catch it further, the stench of swine. A pig leading pigs upon the mainland, the one who called herself Sullivan at his side until her steps lagged to leave her trailing to a stop while the dark-haired human kept walking. Scorching luminescent eyes of the guards tracked his movements, though all of them stood at attention in a way that made them seem like nothing more than part of the room just as the statues separating them. Bacalou lifted a hand to pull bloodied fingers down the length of his beard, black lips twitching as he looked between the two and said nothing. ‘Koning Bacalou,’ the King of swines greeted him, yellow eyes turning upon him to stare with a stoic expression. ‘I am Severin Fæúlfur of Dorsum. Thank you for inviting me to Halha.’ An ear shifted to that, Dorsum’s King having reached out to him for such a meeting that the eximius had obliged. Bacalou’s muzzle split into a toothy grin slowly, hands falling to the arms of the throne to pull himself up. He didn’t address Severin first, however, and instead let his attention fall to the onder het who had brought him.

You are dismissed,” he said bluntly in commanding tones, a hand waving loosely as he did so. Such dealings did not require the presence of the onder het, not when it was between the Verdoem and the one who staked claim to his own kingdom. Bacalou’s gaze flicked back to Severin’s, claws tapping against some of the inlaid bones. “Was your travels to your liking, King Severin?” he asked then, rough humor in his deep voice as they growled forth from his chest.
Offline Severin Apr 17 2020, 5:56 PM
  • Dorsum
  • Age: 36
  • Gender: Male
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: King
  • Total Posts: 29
  • Played by: Maddy
370 Mana · View All Items?
Large, dark paws fall beneath the Koning as he raises himself up from his throne of bones to meet the man that has called upon him. All at once, he issues a sharp command that dismisses the one who has lead him here. A deep breath pulls in through his nostrils, a swelling of his lungs that is held within him for some moments until it is slowly released. Despite how the tigress quickly shifts to make her departure without a further word, he will not forget what they have discussed prior to this very moment. Though the King does not altogether expect a sudden ambush from the people of Giruvaga, he would be an utter fool to dismiss the probability. If he and Sullivan were similar in any way, it would in that they were both likely to think through each and every option and possibility of any particular outcome.

The Koning addresses Severin himself now, and the white lion's attention shifts entirely to the situation at hand. Although focused, he is sure to take stock of his surroundings - which of Bacalou's guards are stationed where, and the tireless shift of the second-in-command beside him. A small smirk finds its way upon his lips, his spine straightening and his muscles coming to loose themselves from their former rigidity before he speaks, "I have always been one to enjoy the destination rather than the journey." While he is not a terribly impatient man, he has always much preferred the feeling of instant gratification - both in personal and professional matters.

Bacalou, from what he has been told, is much the same. It is not likely that he will require any special grooming or verbose conversation in order to come to an agreement. Alas, these are none other than assumptions - words passed from one mouth to another's ear - and the King is more one to play the game as it progresses, rather than to enter it expecting to win. "I have come today with a proposition that our countries might enter into... a collaboration, if you will," he begins, beryl eyes tracing along the figure of the Eximius as though to take in every shift and spasm of his musculature as they conversed. "You have what I need... warriors." His eyes depart from the scarred canvas of the Koning to find the equally battered bodies of the experiments that surrounded them. "And what is it you need, Koning Bacalou?" he raises the question, curiosity dripping from his words. He allows but a moment for the man to ponder on the idea before his voice comes free once more. "I can provide food for your people with a funnel of various crops and livestock.... or if you prefer, financially." With that, there is another upward tilt of his lips.

What sort of man was this Bacalou?