{M} The Simulacrum Prince; IC (F)

[Jinn]

OOC thread

Prologue.

A steady breeze.

Flitting a dance across the courtyard, welcomed by the guards standing watch on the hot and humid night. Their chain mail clinked softly with every shifting foot they made. A sigh of relief escaped between sweaty lips and they began small conversation once again. One couldn’t blame them. Night watch was always the most tedious position to accomplish. Unfortunately tonight, one would make their escape. And they would no doubt be executed on the spot in front of the King.

His highness, Prince Desya conformed into his shimmering naked shape outside the outer stone wall. A peek around to be sure no one was patrolling for the moment, and he dashed to the bushes. Hidden among the green was his pack and spare clothes. Unfortunately he was only able to procure his sword, his alibi that he was having a blacksmith do some work on it. If both his shield and weapon was missing before his escape, it would no doubt raise a red flag.

The king had put the highest available security on the Prince. And not for protection as one would think. No. Desya, or should we say Grisha was a prisoner. It took a lot of planning and outside help to slip a potent sleeping drug into his personal guard’s food. They too will not live another day.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered to the wind, quickly garnishing his clothes and throwing his pack onto his shoulders. Even if it couldn’t be helped, he would hold himself responsible for those people’s deaths. Guilt swayed in Grisha’s heart and he pushed it back. There was no time to sulk.

Chapter One

The Things We Do Not Seek.

The journey through the Ilari had been wearisome and long. All the roundabout routes they had to take to avoid the furry of soldiers. Just at the break of dawn, Grisha’s disappearance had been discovered. Which only gave the Rebels a few hours after midnight to get him to the first safe house. Ever since then it was a constant duck and hide. He knew it would be hard. But he hadn’t prepared himself for something as extreme as this.

Civilians were being dragged out of their homes. Houses burnt down and lives ruined. All because of him. Someone must have caught wind of something regarding his escape. Otherwise he doubted the King would be doing this.

“We gotta hurry, they’ll be here soon.” Grisha spoke quietly from the window, watching somberly the chaos starting outside.

“It’s too risky. We leave now and we will no doubt get caught.”

“That damn King. Sending a whole battalion. As if he is trying to go to war with his own people!” Zadera spat. The decorative witch boy stood to his feet angrily and began to pace. “This is over excessive.”

“No, this is exactly what he wants. Don’t you see the slaughter? This has nothing to do with the prince.” Those ominous words from the gruff captain of the group, Elster, hung heavy. “I doubt his madness would spare even his only son.”

“So what are we going to do now?” The Prince moved away from sight. Was his means of escape an excuse to finally go rampaging? Even then, did Rostilsav plan to keep him alive at all?

What the others didn’t know was that the Prince was still missing. He was just a doppelgänger. A stupid doppelgänger. And he had to get himself involved in this mess. That does bring up the question that he couldn’t speak. Had the Prince already been killed? If so, then he wondered if his appearance threw him for a loop. And what he had planned to do rectify that problem.

It was times like these that Grisha cursed at himself. There was no way out of this one. He caused the problem to worsen, thinking that he was doing some good. Only to find that his ‘father’ was already seeping into the loony bin. Then he wanted out. His presence was doing nothing to help and now that he was…

Everything he did backfired.

He wasn’t even obligated to do this!

His mouth opened to speak truth, then clamped when Elster interrupted.

“-For now we stick to the plan. After that we will figure what to do, your Highness.”

Once the Soldiers were banging at the door, the group made their move. Sneaking out through the hidden door in the back. The army would be distracted by the destruction of the entrance, and buy them time.

Just as the Rebels had promised, Grisha would be in a neighboring Kingdom within the week. Safely tucked away from the grasps of Rostislav’s bloody hands.

In the beautiful forest filled and meadow lands known as Aiyana.

[Liono]

Chapter One: The Things We Do Not Seek.

Memories

Aiyana
Afthonía, the Town of Plenty

"Come on," she called out to me, her voice filled with light. She smiles at me as we walk into the forest, the trail's leaves underneath crackling as they were crushed. "We're almost to the secret spot." "Shouldn't it be closer to town, Munii?" I say, knowing full well why it was far from Afthonía. "The bananas grow here, that's why!" she says, happy she's going on a banana-eating binge. "Hey, don't get a stomachache once you start," I say playfully, as we walk underneath the sunlight, slightly blinded by the branches above us.

Munii Huugin and Geriah Frekiu
Chapter One:
Stars that Twinkle Brightly in the Sky

Aiyana
Silva, the Village of Royal Trees

"We are here!" Munii exclaimed out loud to nobody in particular. "We'll get to meet so many new people, see so many things, and eat new foods!"

And the first thing Munii did was go buy bananas.

Munii ran over to the marketplace, trying to keep her cloak in place as she stumbled on almost every little rock and stick imaginable. "Get out of the way, please!" Munii said as she bumped into some poor woman, who's bread tumbled onto the floor. "Get back here, you whelp!" the woman said, but Munii was gone. With surprisingly quick speed at turning her head to look at signs, she finally found the produce area.

"Um, may I help you, young lady?" the brown-haired shopkeeper said, intimidated by the cloak-wearing individual's mysteriousness. If only he knew the person underneath.

"How many bananas do you have?" Munii said, staring at the man.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we're out of those today," he replied back.

"What?! Man..." Munii said with a defeated tone in her voice.

"Uh, you know, you can just buy apples, they seem to have an overstock," the spirit next to her said.

"Bananas and apples have different tastes, G. And I don't like red anyway."

"Um, excuse me," the shopkeeper asked, "who are you talking to?"

"Say no-one, say no-one, Munii!" Geriah whispered urgently.

"Um... It's no-one..." Munii said. I didn't think that would work, Geriah thought. "Okay, bye," Munii said, glum. "Come on, let's go get a room at the inn," Geriah said, "I hope it's not expensive." They came across an inn after much walking, or in Geriah's case, floating. An old building labeled The Basilisk stood before them.

[Cfavano]

The clattering of wheels rang on the old road as a cart, heavily laden with lumber for market, was pulled toward the Village of Silva. It was making good time, but it was not pulled by a horse, but by a man. It easily weight well over a ton, yet he pulled it along, wearing the collar the horse hitched to the back had worn.

Sweat gleams on his face as he pulls the fully-loaded cart, however he does not slow or stop. Each step, it moves, creaking and groaning under its heavy load. The man does not complain or cry. He merely chants a mantra, lowly. "Aham Brahmaasmi, Aham Brahmaasmi." he extends the chanting to use the entirety of his breath, staying in control of his body. Not ten minutes later, they arrived in town.

The old man profusely thanked Melkor, for that's who it was. Melkor Firehand, travelling monk. Melkor simply bowed with his hands together prayer as the man offered him coins. He took only a small portion of what was offered and said his farewells. With that, he entered the village.

[Sy23]

"Aiyana. Silva, the Village of Royal Trees." Liaskar Fea'rishaka Siagnisa Se Synea - or "The Slinker" as he preferred to be called - spat angrily. The smaller and less attractive a village was, he had noticed, the more pretentious the name. Village of the Royal Trees indeed. Village of the tumbledown hovels and sparse, diseased looking bushes more like.

The Dark Eldar (for this was his race) never, ever lost their temper. To do so was forbidden by the most ancient scriptures possible, scrolls so old that only the most powerful magic prevented them crumbling to dust. Things so old they had been antiques before humans had crawled from the primeval slime. A dark elf losing his temper could be catastrophic... every tree in the vicinity withering, every cow and sheep dying, every building crumbling to matchwood and every piece of metal to rust would only be the start of it. So Fea'rishaka was always careful never to lose his temper.

Putting it into a pocket and forgetting where he'd stowed it, and being too lazy to search his person for it - now that was a different matter entirely!

His anger swept through him, his eyes blazing. For him - a member of one of the oldest clans - to be exiled, simply for the nebulous "crime" of lese majestie - making a rude joke about the queen - this he could take. Even the fact he had been stripped of everything he owned did not matter, for his race did not care too much about things, as such.

It was forbidding him to associate with Phe'laam, the female upon whom he had set his heart, had already proposed mateship to, and been accepted - that was, he felt, cruel, unusual and unwarranted punishment. And in the weeks he had been wandering since, the resentment had not lessened.

His eyes swept around the marketplace. Fat merchants, and their fatter wives. Mangy dogs, threadbare cats. Stalls and barrows and carts, full of the best this dump could offer, which wasn't much.

A pretty girl, standing at a stall haggling. And with her, a... a thing. A thing that looked humanoid enough, but that - and here, it was his mind and not his eyes that told him - shimmered, not even in the way that light shimmered on water but more as if its existence shimmered. A thing, he knew, that the humans that bustled around the girl would not be able to see. Only the Eldar, who had been created before human's had ever thought of magic (in fact, had not even thought up such subtleties as language, wheels or fire) were immune to the illusion. It was not standing alongside her, so much as... as existing simultaneously with her, as if it were a part of her soul, or a kind of spare.

Mind you, a pretty girl was a pretty girl whatever weird thing had attached itself to her. He shrugged. He had nothing against pretty girls as such... but she reminded him of what he had lost, thus making the anger (that he would not admit to, but which existed nonetheless) flare up before he could even stop it.

The barrels of apples, pears, and oranges, and the single bunch of bananas the barrow keeper had been saving for his own supper, hidden under the counter withered and died in a single moment. The barrow keeper let out a cry of anguish and fear, and sprinted away from the market.

The Slinker watched the pretty girl and her... her strange spiritual accessory or parasite... walk away and, having nothing better to do, and centuries to do it in, followed her, watching her body shift in the fluid way young women have. Followed her to The Basilisk, the shabby looking inn that seemed to be the only one this starless* place presented. And followed her into it, for sleeping on the rough ground yet again did not appeal.

* Starless - forlorn, run-down. More or less translatable as "God-forsaken"

[Kris]

"I have a job for you".

She leaned against the wooden planks, carefully scanning the stands around her. It was a market day, full of life and activity, but one cannot be too certain. In order to keep leering eyes, she needed to make sure hers were glancing casually at something else.

Her had an an unusual appearance (and that's even before even noticing her tail), one that could easily bring about many prejudices. As people walked by her with disgust in their eyes she noticed them carefully shielding their bags and purses. So be it, let them think she was just a petty thief.

"I'm all ears", she whispered back, stretching, as if per sheer will. As her hands raised above her head she felt something soft landing on her open palms. She then dug into the pouch that was given to her, noticing few coins and an illustrated image of a young man.

"He's cute"

"And royal too", the voice called behind her.

"Really?", she licked her lips as she played with the golden coins, "It hardly covers the effort".

"There will be more"

"Hey, wait a minute!", she felt her blood boiling as she turned around gazing at the wood and finding the only visible hole, "Now listen up Gol'tat, there's no way I'm risking my neck again like-"

"Do I have to remind you the unfortunate incident from last month?", within the darkness his fangs curled up, "tsk, tsk, I hate to bring up the past like this...", his voice hardly held any shame.

The red haired woman grunted, "This is no joking matter... I know you, you never send me to do easy works".

"What can I say, you are... often... one of the best to take on such a task..."

"Why do you want this kid?"

"What does it matter?"

There was a long pause. Shanni then slowly turned around, leaning on her back again, her tail rocking back and forth, "You are right, it doesn't..."

"Good girl... I have my agents scouted the area, once I find a lead, you'll be the first to know".

Shanni nodded, "As long as you pay up..."

"My dear!", he sounded offended, "Do I ever break up my own promises?"

She chuckled, "Only those you want", she started to advance, "It better be worth it"

[Liono]

Chapter One: The Things We Do Not Seek.
Chapter One: Stars that Twinkle Brightly in the Sky

Before Munii stepped inside, she looked around to take in the beauty of Silva before going into a raggedy, old building. She noted that Silva had gotten its name for a reason. The empress trees were planted everywhere here, along with the beautiful bushes. These colors of purple and pink mixed wonderfully, creating a pretty scene. Munii wondered how this place wasn't popular with tourists. She looked around some more, and saw a man pulling a cart near the entrance of the village, then entering, and a strange elven man that seemed to be staring at her.

Munii stepped inside the Basilisk, Geriah keeping a close eye out. Somehow, he had the feeling that he was being watched. Inside the Basilisk, it was alright. Not much greater than the outside, but the upkeep was better. There were a few chairs and tables for those who needed a drink and meal, and a staircase that presumably led to the bedrooms.

"Oi, welcome to the Basilisk," said a human man with brown hair and a large beard. "What do ya want?"

"A room, please," Munii said to the human.

Munii paid the man the standard amount for a room, and noticed the same elf that was staring at her before walk in. Geriah felt that same feel of being watched, of being known of, except that it was stronger. It was coming from him.

"I don't like this guy, Munii," he said.

"Oh, it'll be fine. He's just a stranger wanting a room."

[Storm]

The darkened horizon just now starts to show a orangish red hue as the sun still sits just behind the skyline. Su-Lin softly steps across the grassy ground in a low crouch, her chocolate brown eyes scanning what lay before her. As she hears a slight rustle of leaves, she rests a light weight arrow upon the bow. A fair sized rabbit shows its presence as it leaps from the bush and scampers quickly into the tree line. Effortlessly through a lifetime of practice, she draws the bow taunt and releases the arrow allowing it to whisper through the air. A loud screech echoes through the woods while she keeps a casual pace toward where the deceased rabbit lay. She crouches next to the animal resting her hand between its ears whispering softly
“I am sorry my dear, you suffered not though.” as she removes the arrow from the body.
She carefully picks the animal up and walks a short distance to where she had hours before slept. As the sun breaks the horizon casting light upon a new day, she prepares the rabbit for her breakfast igniting a small fire within some tinder. Though not gifted with fire manipulation, she has learned to raise the temperature within a confined area of a combustible to start fires for cooking.

With the sun now showing full above the horizon and casting warmth across the ground, she has the remains of her breakfast buried for she will not kill as some do for skins. Finishing stowing several of her swords, her bow and arrow quiver within the bedroll, she tightly binds it for carrying. She straps her other short sword across her back and slides her dagger along her hip sheath. She looks up into the morning sky at the beauty of this day before looking in the direction of this next town she wishes to see, Silva, the Village of Royal Trees.

Having made good pace she arrives just outside of this town. There is a buzz of activity with people carrying about their lives and their business. As she enters Silva she ensures she offers polite conversation toward those whom speak to her while at the same time keeping her wits about her. Danger hides in even the most beautiful places not that Silva is that wondrous a place as word made it out to be. She however was a visitor to their soil so she would extend a courteous smile and pleasant tone to those she happened across.

As she deepened her trek within Silva, she happened upon a merchant stand with a brown haired shop keeper persisting
“I tell ya that I did had so much to sell taday. Count ma word lads, ther is gonna be trouble. Sorcery ah tells ya, somtin rotted all I has taday.”

Some look worried; others mumble that the old fool simply had a pint too much ale yet there was not much mind placed on his words by those around. Su-Lin continues past those gathered offering a soft smile and nod to those offering their smiles and stares. As she stands in front of an establishment bearing the words The Basilsk she steps within the structure.

Allowing her eyes adjust to the new lighting conditions within, she looks upon the occupants one by one. A man with brown hair and a full brown beard she assumed was the keeper approached
“What can I get ya lassy?”

Still focusing some attention upon the Elf, she turns to the keeper, softness in her voice she responds
“If not too much trouble, mayhaps a water and any room you may have available.”
Lassy… at least this man had not called her girly … yet. So far if he is the keeper of this establishment, he is conducting himself admirably….

That thought vanished as the brown haired man turned while grabbing a handful of her butt
“Sure thin lassy, get ya all taken care ov”

Su-Lin simply rolls her eyes after the brown haired man copped a feel. The smile on her lips could be mistaken for enjoying his grasp as she thinks that drawing her sword and removing his hand would be bad manors in this town. One day though…. One day.

[Cfavano]

Entering The Basilisk, he sits down at a table. When a waitress comes to take his order, it is simple. He orders a glass of water, an apple, and some plain oatmeal. As the waitress walks away, he extends his pinky and with a few swift chops, he slices up the apple. With his pinky finger. He breaks the slices in half and mixes them. With a small prayer, he begins to eat. He wasn't necessarily hungry, but he knew he had to feed his body after his morning exercise. What goes out must be put back in.

He is surrounded by people of various races. Such a wonder it was, to see a variety of faces in a public house such as this.

[Sy23]

The Slinker had developed a certain liking for the innkeeper of the Basilisk. Reason? The man's attitude of respect. Of course, everyone who knew what he was, what he could do, showed respect - they'd be fools not to. Even if they didn't know his abilities and powers, they'd certainly respect the gold coins - each one worth more than the inhabitant of this small village could earn in a year - that he showed.

Yet, the innkeeper had known none of this, seen simply a poor traveler in a threadbare cloak, down on his luck, who may or may not have had some elven blood. Yet he had been polite and generous, in no way contemptuous where many might have. For this reason - for the Slinker appreciated such courtesies - he had ordered a goblet of the establishment's best wine, and the best meal available, roasted fowl, and a room, and handed over enough money to settle his score if he stayed there drinking and eating for a week.

Sitting back, the pains of hunger no longer gnawing at his belly (it had been a long road) Slinker allowed himself the leisure to look around the parlor of the inn. Obviously this village wasn't the backwater he'd assumed, for while he'd been sitting there, a number of people had entered and ordered rooms or meals. As well as the pretty girl with the accompanying presence only he could see, a calm-looking aristocrat (or if he wasn't, he certainly carried himself as one) and an extremely pretty girl from the far, exotic lands where dragons, spices and mind-caressing drugs were in abundance had also come in and given the establishment their custom.

Well, who could blame them? As well as the innkeeper being so likeable, the food was good. Being what he was, he'd have picked the slightest hint of the tubers, leaves and fruits that accompanied his meats being past their best, and they were undoubtedly fresh and of high-quality, as were the chicken, pheasant and turkey themselves. The inn did have a slight problem with rats - what inn didn't - and he amused himself (by way of an extra gratuity) by gently entering the minds of the rodents, and suggesting (with extreme prejudice) they take themselves elsewhere, an order with which they hurried to comply. He noted in passing that the wood of the inn was sound and in good repair, as he'd have expected.

The serving maids, he saw, were of good quality, too. Blond, apple-cheeked and buxom, and all - judging by the way they pushed at their locks, thrust out their bosoms and smoothed their skirts as they replenished his wine - in various degrees of availability.

It was hardly their fault that his eyes, his mind, had somehow become so fascinated by the girl with the strange accompanying presence that he had no mind for them.

[Kris]

It was too... green for her liking. Too breathe-able, too clean. To someone hailing from the worst of the slums, finding this clearance of paradise within never ending fog of ugly humanity hell seemed like a miracle forming out of a fairy tale.

A year ago, would a bard sing about such location she would dismiss it easily as impossible description. But there it was, the lovely Silva village, a location who seemed to be untouched by the plague of the plotting royalties and nobles in the five kingdoms.

But an old street rat like herself knew that often the beautiful things hide great secrets within. Someone in here ought to know something about the boy she was tracing. The road to the village was not far from where she originally started, and she had no lead to follow anyway.

Sure, she could have waited for Gol'tat to send some kind of intel... But knowing that damn goblin she realized she better do some searching of her own first.

This boy... who was he?

The fact was that Gol'tat was awfully silent about the client in question made her uneasy. The goblin was usually very elven like... He blabbered as if his life was depending on the amount of words leaving his mouth and now, without any good reason, he refused to tell a thing.

She scanned her surroundings. Another simply marketplace, with yet more simple men and women and yet the fact no one truly reacted to her strange appearance made her wonder why. She heard it was possible for some villages or places to be more tolerant and understanding of another species, usually if most of the civilized population was not humans.

She turned to look again, this time with more attention. Yes... Not simple men and women, but elves, dwarves... even orcs... and was that a dryad???

She needed to find out more. Her fingers dug into her pockets where she felt the coins she had just received. At that moment she noticed a small sign that read "Basilisk"- inn or tavern of sort.

Maybe there...

Before she could even think of her next move, her legs already carried her inside.