The Posh Ferret

[Rinkat]

Quin
It was the third day of rain; grey skies and persistent showers washed out any weekend plans. No matter. Quin laid on his bed with a book, the window cracked open to welcome the sound and smell of the rain. His sister had rushed to find other things to do that didn't involve the outdoors, and was probably off shopping with her friends somewhere.
He looked up from his book when he realized the rain had ceased hitting his window. The droplets clung to the glass in suspended animation. "What?" Quin quickly got up and looked out the window. The rain had stopped, but not stop stopped. It hung in the air like someone had put the weather on pause. The wind wasn't rustling the trees, but the branches were definitely leaning like they were caught in a strong breeze.
Quinten immediately felt anxious and had a pit growing in his stomach. He didn't do this. He rushed to get his shoes on and grab a jacket, bolting out of his room and down the hall. He stumbled to a stop at the top of the stairs.
A man stood at the bottom of the stairs with a smile. "You must be Quinten. My name is Fidelis."
"How are you doing this?" Quin asked.
"I shouldn't have to explain that to you, but I'm a time mage."
"Obviously, but how? There's never been two at the same time."
"Let's not worry about that," Fidelis waved it off. "I have a mission for you."


Taro
Taro was up and moving just before the sun hit his window. He stretched and got dressed, pulling a hat over his head and making sure his ears were covered. He went downstairs for breakfast, then went to Laytri's office. The inn's owner was rummaging through paperwork. "What are you looking for?" he asked.
"The most recent paperwork from Tarri," she replied. "He seems to think I owe him a much higher number than we agreed upon. And for what! He hasn't even finished the job!"
Taro stepped into the room and helped her look, silently wishing that the woman would make an attempt to be more organized. Well, she would make attempts, but it would only last about three days. "Here it is," Taro said, handing it to her.
"Ah, yes, thank you. Oh, Taro, we have a special guest of the King's coming tonight, will you make sure that room is ready?"
"Yes, ma'am." He nodded and left, making his way up to the second floor. Being so close to the castle, The Posh Ferret Inn often hosted many important people. It had the reputation of being the best inn in the city, and Taro made sure to do everything he could to keep it that way.
The second floor had the fancier rooms where people going to see the King would stay. The "special" guests would always get the best: multiple rooms connected for ample space, the softest bedding, most expensive imported drinks… Everything in those rooms were paid for by the King. And Taro was the only person Laytri trusted to go inside and make sure everything was clean and in tip top shape. He spent the day cleaning and polishing those rooms from top to bottom, checking everything three or four times to make sure he didn't miss a single spot. Satisfied with his work, he finally went downstairs to take over manning the front desk.


https://i.ibb.co/3SWP5z6/quinten.jpg

Quinten Vanguard

Male

5"7'

Time Mage


Personality
Quinten is laid back and casual, often just going with the flow and not caring about what the day throws at him. He's usually flexible and open minded, rarely wanting an argument; unless it goes against his core beliefs, or you make his sister cry. Then he's gonna throw hands.



A brief History
Coming from a rich family, Quin has never wanted for anything. He recently graduated from a prestigious school with his twin sister Vanessa. He is often taken to special events that his parents attend, bragged about and presented as the trophy son. He is, after all, the first pure time mage to have been born in several hundred years.

https://i.ibb.co/PQCtsTN/taro.jpg

Tarron Cairon

Male

5'11"

Personality

A brief History

https://i.ibb.co/rw49vT1/fidelis.jpg

Fidelis

Male

6'0"

Time Mage

[Nymphadora]

Amaya watched her home shrink in the distance through the window of the rocking carriage. It was a nice carriage. The finest one she had ever seen, but even the King's best engineers couldn't invent something that didn't get banged around on the uneven dirt roads that surrounded her home.

Her home. If she could even really call it that. It had only ever been a place she lived. A small town where she had been raised, where she had worked and where she had been confined to live out her small existence.

Or so she had thought. Her mother had spent all of Amaya's childhood years preening her, teaching her to be every bit the lady she suspected her mother never had been. Already disgraced by the time Amaya had been born, she found it hard to believe her mother had ever been the daughter of an esteemed Duke and his Duchess. But alas, she claimed to have been. She certainly seemed to know more about the life of luxury than any normal barmaid or sir's "nighttime distraction" should know about.

After years of working to undo the damage her mother had caused the family, Amaya had finally found a prospective marriage. The honorable Trevin, a knight and the Lord of her province had decided she was his exact type. An advantageous marriage, just like her mother had wanted for her.

Little did she know, that the King had planned a stop at the Lord's luxurious manor the very day she had been meant to meet her betrothed and to be given the final lessons of ladyhood before their wedding night in a fortnight. Only, what had began as the Lord showing off his newly betrothed to the King had turned into The King claiming her for himself. Amaya was still in shock. With no chance to say goodbye to her family herself before they gathered her up and began to cart her away, the best she could do was leave a message with one of the guards who assured her that the message would reach them.

Advantageous marriage indeed.

When her eyes could no longer see the small town, she looked inward, at the guard that was sitting across from her. He sat bolt upright, alert as deer watching for danger. No, that was wrong. This man was anything but prey. He was more like a wolf, listening for his next meal to make a move in the bushes so he could pounce. He stared out the window stoically. He had been introduced to her by the man who was in charge of this procession as Gavain. But he himself hadn't said a single word to her. Nor had he looked in her direction. She was about to test his resolve on his apparent decision to feign being mute.

"Will we be arriving at the Kingdom tonight?" She asked confidently. Her mother had always taught her that ladies are to be confidant, but not too assertive. Men didn't like strong women, so ladies always acted demure and unassuming around them. "Men like a lady who shows she is coy and dependent. Makes them feel strong and manly," her mother would always tell her. "Only allow your brazenness when men aren't present. And your shameless side when you're alone with your husband at night. Otherwise, you're a helpless damsel." Amaya hoped she could handle that. She was strong-willed. Those lessons where she needed to act like she was some helpless wench were the hardest for her to endure.

"No." Gavain replied emotionlessly as he continued to stare out the window.

"Then tomorrow?" she tried to urge him to continue. However, the man just grunted and shrugged slightly. She chewed on her lower lip and then moved her eyes back out at the landscape, watching it pass soundlessly.

The nerves had finally started to take a toll on her after a couple hours into the journey, the landscape was little more than a black, wavy line in the distance, the sunset blazing a gorgeous orange hue behind it. Her eyes began to get heavy and she was just beginning to wondering if it would be unlady-like if she laid down on across the seat in the carriage when a torch passed across the window. She leaned forward to see they were crossing a large stone bridge. Probably ten times larger than any other bridge she had ever seen before in her life. The horse's hooves clopped against the stones loudly in the nighttime.

Another of the knights rode his horse up to the window of the carriage, bending down slightly to peer inside. His eyes met Gavain's with an unspoken command and Gavain nodded. The knight on the horse moved his gaze to Amaya, "My lady, we will be stopping here shortly. There is an inn where you will be staying the night so you can rest soundly. Gavain will be your personal guard, he will be posted outside your chamber with one other man, so if you should need any assistance, they will be but a call away. Captain Baer will be back by morning, and he will fill you in on tomorrow's journey. Are you in need of anything?"

Was she ever? She had only needed to find a good trench for the last couple hours and the bumpiness of the carriage wasn't helping that any. But she knew that wouldn't be very lady-like to mention. "No sir, I'm fine. Thank you." She smiled at him. He returned the smile with a quick nod, then kicked his horse and was gone.

"Will we be arriving soon?" She asked Gavain.

He grunted. She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

She didn't have to wait too much longer before she felt the carriage stop. No sooner had it stopped, Gavain was up and out of the door before the thing had even stopped rocking. Amaya scowled, but stood up herself. She was met by another new guard, he seemed a little smaller than the others.

"My lady," he mumbled, holding out his hand to her. She looked at it.

"Amaya is fine. Sir...?" She trailed off in a questioning tone.

"Thorst. No sir. I'm not a knight," he grinned at her. She decided she liked his smile as she took his hand and let him help her down.

Amaya wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she just smiled back politely and let him guide her to the inn. She walked inside and had to fight to keep her face from showing how astonished she was at the splendor. It made the bar and inn her mother worked at look down-right ratty in comparison. The two guards that had proceeded Thorst and herself inside the inn just stood there, like they owned the place and were waiting to be served.

Being in the employ of the King, she wouldn't be surprised if they did...



Name: Amaya Cypress
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance:
https://40.media.tumblr.com/d75543b220c13811b9f65028ebaf4a77/tumblr_nxzjukCNNw1u94wn4o1_400.jpg
Eyes: Green
Height: 5'4"
Physical Appearance: Toned and curvy. Has been preened her whole life in hopes of an advantageous marriage to rescue her family from destitution.

Magic: Mind Control

Personality: Duty bound. Very serious and rarely ever takes time for herself. Selfless and lives for others. She has a fiery side, but keeps that under lock and key most of the time.

History: Amaya has spent her entire life having duty to her family instilled in her brain as the most important thing. Her mother was disowned by her family after running away to be with Fidelis. She was then disgraced in their small village after coming up pregnant out of wedlock, and since then provided for her family by doing whatever she could for money. Amaya has multiple younger siblings, none of which know their fathers.


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Age: 22
Height: 6'3"
Eyes: Blue
Physical Appearance: Athletic and toned with slightly defined muscles. Scarred and marred from the many battles he's seen in the past couple years since the King's illness plus smaller, less morbid scars caused from harsh training his whole life can be seen sporadically over his skin. The most noticeable being a large white scar on the right side of his neck where an arrow sliced through the side of it during a battle to hold off a rival kingdom's battlement. He prefers to be clean shaven, but with his busy schedule, that's not always possible, resulting in scruffle or an unkempt, short beard before he can get around to shaving it again.

Skills: Expert with hand-to-hand, swordplay and bows. Average to exceptional with any other weapons due to constant training his whole life. He is an expert rider and can fight perfectly well from horseback and actually has a bond with his war horse named Tamarc. He is an expert survivalist and hunter/tracker.

Personality: Fenerick is serious and all around the opposite of Alastair except in the concept that he is exceptionally loyal and will do anything for his friend. He is self-sacrificial and very mature. Brave, so much so to the point that people in the army who are under his command say that he fears nothing. Though he knows this isn't true. He's reserved and quiet and normally keeps to himself, rarely opening up to anyone but his best friend who he feels is the only one who really knows him. But once you get to know him, conversations with him can be interesting to say the least. He's passionate about the things he believes in.

History: Fenerick was orphaned as a young boy when bandits came through and slaughtered his families travelling caravan, they were a nomadic people. Gypsies, he believed, but he was too young to remember. Luckily, before he could starve to death or be scooped up by slavers or killed, he was found by Alastair's father and taken in and trained up to become a soldier where he trained daily so that he could fulfill his promise to King LeGault that he would help protect Alastair as thanks for the King's generosity in taking him in. When he was about fourteen, he was approached by a witch who told him a prophecy about himself, one that haunts him to this day. It's the only thing that he never told Alastair since he had been brought to live with the King and Prince. He kept this dark secret to himself. Now, well trained, he is the captain of the guard and Alastair's personal guard or errand runner apparently whenever he sees fit. He was the one who took Alastair to the witch to see if she knew of anyway that could help save their kingdom in an attempt to help his Prince.


https://i.pinimg.com/474x/64/0e/ee/640eeef8c1f034a934166dd4dc1c0336.jpg
Age: 24
Height: 5'10"
Physical: Athletically tone; takes pride in the way he looks and has a regal mannerism to the way he holds himself. He prefers to wear a beard because he believes it makes him look older more formidable and like a king while he's standing in his father's place, though it's always well-maintained. He always wears the jewels of his family on his fingers and is never seen without them.

Magic: Glamour

Skills: Adequate with the sword but a master with the bow. Moving targets are no problem for him. He's an excellent rider and can shoot just as fine from the back of a horse, though he is shoddy at swordplay from the back of one. When using swords, he prefers one-handed, thin longswords.

Personality: Born to privelege and a so-called easy life. He has let his status go to his head. Not only is he the King of his land, but he's also a descendant of the Dimensional Spacing Mage Clan. He doesn't really have anyone to answer to, so he does what he wants, when he wants. He can have a bit of a mean streak. He doesn't see people as individuals. He sees them as means to accomplish his own plans and to fulfill his own wishes.

History: Alastair's mother is the Magess in charge of her Clan. The one and only Dimensional Mage in current existence. So he was raised by his father until he was seven. At which age, his father died in the employ of the King. When faced with the orphaned Alastair, the King was enamored by his glamour magic and raised him not only as his own son, but as his sole heir as well. He rules justly, about the only decent thing he does. But he lives a selfish lifestyle. His own harem, surrounded by riches and servants galore and never has to lift a finger to do any kind of tedious work.


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Age: 34
One of Fenerick's closest and most loyal men. They tease and anger each other all the time, but they trust each other completely
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Age: 23
Very down-to-earth and likes to dabble in scientific things. Is exceptionally loyal to Fenerick.
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Age: 19
Fenerick's squire and a huge flirt with the ladies. Loves to exaggerate stories to make himself look more interesting and more of a catch.

[Rinkat]

Taro
It was a slow day. Not many people leaving, not many coming in. Taro occupied himself with the ferret that had his own bed on the front desk. Mr. Wiggles was a cute little creature, dressed in a shirt and tie, and the guests loved him. Taro was playing with him, tucking him into a ball and rolling him across the counter. The ferret would get up and bounce back to him to do it again. Ferret bowling should be a sport, he mused.
A bell above the door jingled when someone stepped in and Taro, and Wiggles, looked up at the customer. "Good evening," he greeted the men politely and immediately reached for the keys to the second floor rooms, but Wiggles beat him to it; the ferret bumped his hand away and took the keys in his mouth, spinning around and hopping back up onto the ledge of the desk. He presented the keys, patiently waiting for one of the men to take them, or to be told to lead them to the rooms. “Alright, you do that, then,” Taro said. The ferret took his cue and bounced off the desk and up the stairs to the second floor. “Wiggles will let you in. I’ll get the luggage.”