Alias Cy, Red Birth Name Cyrus Kinsley Ashguard IV Nickname(s) Species Sun Elf Gender Male
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Relationship Status:BetrothedRacial TraitsDarkvision, Keen Senses, Fey Ancestry, Trance, Elf Weapon Training, Cantrip Birthday | Age March 19th |120 Place of Birth Western Heartlands Current Location Those who wander are not lost. Height | Weight 5'7" | 190lbs Skin-tone Bronzed Eyes | Hair Golden | Crimson
Class Paladian
Weapon Rapier- Needle, childhood weapon; Longsword - Soleil, gifted to him by his father [he treasures it deeply]
Companion [depends on story] his white horse, Sorcha, he calls her Scorcher playfully--she often boots him off when he is acting especially stupid.
Background Next in line to the Ashguard throne, ill-prepared.
Motivation Defeat the curse; Ascend the throne; Become a proper King
Family Father:Cyrus Ashguard I [Ill]
Mother: Valora Ashguard
Siblings: Cyrus Ashguard II [Estranged], Cyrus Ashguard III [Deceased/Age 7]
PersonalityReligion: Goddess of Sunlight and Honor,
Dol-Arrah
LikesTEA, GLORIOUS TEA, Compliments, Sword fighting/fencing, being king, the violin Dislikes: Boo to no compliments, Hurting others, not being in the lap of luxury, โโโโโโโโโ Traits: Naive, Gullible, Loyal, Egocentric/Self-loathing
Hobbies: Fencing, eating sweets even though he deems it childish, Discovering things outside the castle walls
Alignment Chaotic Good
[Under Construction!]
Cyrus Kinsley Ashguard IV was born to King Cyrus Ashguard and Queen Valora Ashguard; the third son of the Ashguard Kingdom. A blessing, many would say. Since they had three strapping, young boys that could potentially become the new King. Their father, Cyrus Ashguard kept in the recesses of his mind a damned prophecy.
Blood will sooner spill on the throne before another Ashguard should take it.
How could such a thing be true? He was given three healthy sons! Despite this, he was stressed over the prophecy becoming true. This was taken out on all members of his family, especially his sons. The abuse even stemmed to their names, they were all named Cyrus Ashguard--just in case one were to die, the replacement would be simple. The boys came up with nicknames to differentiate one another, as well as some of the servants. The fiery spirit that was our Cyrus didn't bare much of the abuse since his eldest brother shielded his younger siblings. Unfortunately, their mother did little to ease them and simply bandaged up any wounds.
They were all given the best education the Kingdom could provide. Cyrus particularly enjoyed reading, fencing, and playing the violin! Things were at peace, for the most part, until the second son passed away suddenly. It was presumed a murder, but no substantial evidence could be found. Was the prophecy coming true? King Cyrus mentally became distraught after his death, restricting his sons and being far more harsh with them. Little Cyrus only had his eldest brother to protect him, but he'd always been his hero. There to take on any beating, to read him bedtime stories and when he became King things would certainly change!
His eldest brother ran away, to this day is estranged, rumor has it he has crossed the seas. Cyrus still believes his brother is alive, but now there was no shield to protect him. Despite his bubbly, confident personality--Cyrus Kinsley Ashguard is a broken man seeking acceptance.
Now, with the weight of the Kingdom on his shoulders, his father is not expected to live past the year--he should be able to step onto the throne. Yet...he has kept a dark secret from his family, one that...most certainly bring the prophecy to fruition.
tell me which should I beg forgiveness for?: what I am or what I'm not?
As the giant of a male went lumbering about he'd hear a shouting and investigate. Upon closer examination he'd note the crimson hairs being in the tree; silently he'd listen before pushing the male as he dangled swinging from the rope entirely helpless as he sighs he'd crouch down so his eyes met the other; golden hues reflecting back as they shared similar shades.
"You know the point of a trap is to catch your prey not yourself. Otherwise I'd assume you were caught in someone else's trap in which case why have they not come for you?"
he'd ponder some as he unsheathed his giant great sword,
"assuming this isn't. A trap and you can't get out what is to stop me from robbing you blind and walking off. Or even worse from using this blade to lob your head off clean. I know as a fae your not one to fear death, the whole reincarnation bit...but to be so brazen as to assume a mortal holds no threats because what, they appear to be some human ape, incapable of being bad? A bold assumption; what if I was to do that? Kill you where you stood? Would that ruin the goddess day or do you still cheer her name in hopes that she brought your savior and not executioner..."
as he raise the blade I one swift flick of his wrist the blade would cleanly make one swift cut and like that his head would rolll, thankfully it was with the rest of his body as he fell hard and the giant sheathe his blade. A face made he'd crouch down and remove the rope aiding in there escape.
"thankfully your goddess sent an elf lover, would have also helped if you were a tiefling. Anyways...the name is รlvaldi, รlvaldi Jottunson. Meaning the all powerful son of giants."
he'd say as he slowly folded his arms over his chest. Upon closer examination and being free they note not just his large size and height but frame. With bulging muscles akin to a god of war and just as many scars on them to match this monsterous half giant would speak calmly as the even larger blade remained safely on his back.
"so you got a name or shall I call you Clutz on account of your prior failures?"
he'd tease some smiling as he extended out a hand to shake. He was luckily a gentle giant but if push came to shove he'd let loose. Yet the rage didn't seem needed as he was fairly certain this wasn't some sort of trap and if it was that would just make it all the more fun.
//no worries I roll with what I'm given hope that didn't get ya too nervous with the rope cut. Just thought it funny to tease a possible beheading with vague wording lol ๐
"Most spies don't realize silence won't improve their situation," Afsin Ali replied calmly. "Fortunately, I do enjoy drawing things out."
This particular captive was more talkative than others. His rapid words betrayed his youth more than his appearance. He must not have known quite where he was, or before whom exactly he had been brought, else he'd have chosen a different answer.
"I did not ask if you are skilled. Your story is not very convincing but this act--" Afsin gestured at the captive's disheveled appearance, "if it is one -- is very good."
The Pasha looked at his men and c*cked his head. While they worked quickly to undo the Sun Elf's restraints and remained close in case he tried anything, Afsin Ali went to a nearby smaller table to pour water into a goblet. He approached the captive.
"The thing is this: I do not care what you are or why you're here." He crouched and offered the drink. "But you were caught in a trap. Perhaps while you were up there, you saw a woman fleeing on horseback. She would have had help. Soldiers much like the ones present in this tent, only dressed differently. Or something stranger still..."
Afsin peered searchingly into his captive's bright eyes, which were so unlike his own. His voice softened when he said: "Like the air shifting, wavering as though it will be cut open. The sound of the earth inhaling from deep below where the devils dwell. Blood in the sky," Afsin murmured, looking at the Elf's hair as if it was made of the same magic he alluded to, "bleeding from the land. Now, choose your words carefully, traveler... Did you see any of that?"
The Alps nearby and even Murad seemed to have stopped breathing. They may not have understood what their Pasha was saying, but they knew this deceptively soft tone of his could only herald the arrival of something sinister. Men's hearts sank when their Pasha smiled, for the things he found amusing were not so.
A few moments later, after the captive had spoken, a new soldier entered and bowed. His voice trembled as he said: "They are ready for you, Afsin Ali Pasha."
"Eyvallah." Afsin rose to his feet and cracked his knuckles, his eyes remaining on the captive. "Bring him along, Murad Bey. He inquired about the other spies we have caught."
"Is he one of them, Pasha?" Murad asked worriedly while his Alps lifted the captive to his feet. "Say the word and I will deal with him with my blade."
"That remains to be seen." Afsin Ali smiled and the soldiers paled. In the Common Language, he told the Sun Elf, "Let me show you what happens to those spies who are truly unlucky." He clapped him on the shoulder and led the way out of the tent.
The Alps were quick to bring the captive forward for Murad's inspection. Whoever this was, it was clear from his appearance and the proud way he held himself that he was not from these parts. While Murad could recognize nobility, he answered only to the Pasha and their Sultan by extension.
The captive spoke again, more calmly this time, though Murad did not understand what was said. After studying his amber gaze Murad gave his men swift orders.
"Restrain him. You two search the area for anything that belongs to him," Murad said. "One of you ride ahead to inform them we return to camp at once."
"Yes, Bey!"
The rider departed quickly. The lingering soldiers found a sword among some other belongings, and once Murad was satisfied, they began the short journey back.
It was a small camp of about one hundred soldiers, with janissaries making up only about half of them. A single large tent had been erected. It was yellow, a signifier of a high-ranking official, richly embroidered with green foliage, and it spanned nearly a hundred meters onto the field. No less than four guards stood at each shaded entrance and they exchanged heavily with Murad before allowing him to enter with his captive.
At the core of the tent were several men who conferred over a map splayed on a vast table. Out of them all, one's livery stood out the most for the crimson and gold accents, and the regal sword balanced in an ornate sheath at his side. The Pasha was the finest-looking of the gathered men, and his dark, heavy beard was the most magnificent.ย
"Murad Bey has arrived, Afsin Ali Pasha," announced a guard within.
The Pasha gave his orders and dismissed those around him with a subtle flick of his fingers. They bowed low and dispersed quickly, while Murad and his captive were allowed to bring their captive closer. He was pushed down to his knees.
Afsin Ali Pasha met Murad Bey's eye and said: "Report."
"We have found a person of interest, Pasha," Murad said in deference, gesturing at the Sun Elf. "He was caught in our traps toward the east. He may have seen something, but he does not speak our language. I thought you might want to question him."
A thick silence ensued. The men seemed to hold their breaths while their unpredictable Pasha considered. Eventually, Afsin Ali looked at the one who had been brought: a crimson man like the flames of Jahannam. Their empire spanned so many lands and seas, islands and territories, that this one could have hailed from anywhere.
"Are you a spy?" Afsin Ali asked the Sun Elf, addressing him in the Common Tongue to be understood.
Be CAREFUL of that girl. There's a FIRE burning behind her eyes.ย She makesย KINGDOMS FALL and monsters wish they'd never been born.
* / / hi hi!ย i just wanted to check in and see if you had any concrete ideas for what you wanted to do with windemere as a location?ย i'd like to bring them there in a couple of replies, but since you introduced windemere, i figured i would ask first before making too many assumptions.ย :)
๐ค I hope you had a wonderful week and happy Friday!! I also wouldn't mind continuing this; shall we continue in the commentsย or would you like me to send my response in a message? I don't mind either but I just thought I'd ask before sending my reply. :)
// Hello there! I would like to extend my apologies for disappearing on you like that. I had a lot going on in my personal life and just kind of.. dipped out..ย
I was wondering, if you were still down to roleplay and banter? If not then I totally understand, but I must say that I do regret not getting back to you sooner.. But as I stated, I totally understand if you do not wish to, it was my fault for letting things get so dry.ย
On the other hand though, if you would be willing, I could give you my discord and we can rp there and chat more often, or just as well I can reply to your rp comment there. Let me know when you can, hm? I hope that you are still here.
Murad holds up a hand to bring his soldiers to a halt. The trap is theirs but it hasn't caught the intended target. With a frown, Murad tries to decide whether to take this discovery to their master.
"What is it?" asks one of the soldiers, craning his neck to see. "Any idea what he's saying?"
Murad shakes his head. The one in tangles speaks -- or rather shouts -- in a language other than Turkish. Even if he did see something useful, questioning him would be a challenge. Still, their master might want to see this... And unlike the soldiers, he does speak several languages.
Then again, he could have Murad and his Alps beheaded for wasting his time.
"Should I put an arrow in his heart, Murad Bey?" inquires a marksman.
"No," Murad replies. "We'll bring him to the Pasha. Aim for the rope and seize him."
The creak of a stretching bow is heard soon enough, and an arrow whistles through the air.
The beast stopped dead in her tracks upon hearing the elf's voice. White eyes darted around for a few moments before following directions, looking directly above her... Oh dear! The stranger seemed to be strung up in a hunter's trap.ย She couldn't help but snicker at the sight. "I can help but you might be upside down for a bit longer..." Part of her was suprised to see that he could still yell in this state. Who knows how long he had been hanging; and with that, her wings quicklyย lifted her off the ground, slowly rising toward the start of the tangling.
"Being that you asked so nicely but don'tย pass out on me yet." One hand gripped his right arm while her free hand went to work. She used her sharp claws to saw through a rope, oneย by one ropes fell until the main line that kept him suspended was cut. For a brief moment they dipped as she grabbed his arm with both hands. Only then would the dragon slowly bring them back to the ground, waiting for his feet to meet the ground.
๐ค
๏นIt's a pleasure to meet you, new friend! My apologies for getting back to you so late. I hope you've been having a wonderful weekend thus far. I'm always happy to discuss new storylines or even dig into some banter! 'โก' ๏น
No... Something isn't right. This isn't how it's supposed to be....
Hax immediately halts himself from proceeding to do anything further, having picked up new scents that caught his undivided attention. It smelled of fire and something not-human, something potentially dangerous. Had he been afraid? Not at all, however, the drake knew his own limits, even when he's been snapped mentally. That mentality of his was slowly seaming back together, and his thoughts were becoming more coherent and less dark.
"You... you... what ARE you...?!"
Suddenly, Hax remembered that he wanted to keep living. He wanted to help his people, and the dragonkind he ruled over. He needed answers. The view he sees from Cyrus causes his eye to widen, and while he felt a sense of instinct wanting to take over again and lash out against whatever it is and that he smelled, he couldn't. This ultimately stops him.
The internal struggle he sees, it reminds him of himself. The fight of not wanting to succumb to something more dangerous, something that has to be held back. This is what Hax sees in Cyrus currently, and what he observes in those seconds. He couldn't keep fighting like this. He couldn't keep causing more destruction and death, and looking around... he's caused more than that in this small village. People still hid in their homes silently, the air smelled of the iron and rot, and it's colder in temperature.
"I cannot... I cannot... Not now. No. You..." Hax takes steps back, and back, and back, almost stumbling over the bodies he decimated previously. His heart raced in anxiety, his vision was becoming hazy, his mind muddled. There's struggling growls and what wanted to be roars when he fights with himself internally. He didn't want to kill Cyrus, but he also could not help him in his own struggle. It's complicated, it's frustrating, but Hax knows he must spare the man. He must give mercy to only to him, but to himself, too.
Nothing is said. Nothing. Hax would eventually leave, and what lay behind in his previous wake of madness is all sorts of chaos and death that he never actually wanted to cause. He spared Cyrus this time, not wanting to kill and out of what he had seen. Perhaps it was cowardice, or perhaps his sanity allowed for him to rightfully act on good instead of something worse that would cause both of them to suffer more. ย
Be CAREFUL of that girl. There's a FIRE burning behind her eyes.ย She makesย KINGDOMS FALL and monsters wish they'd never been born.
Sand and great heat?ย That only sounded partially like the wastelands, right up until he explained what anย oasisย was.ย ย Thatย sounded strangely like Victor's Respite...
"So your kingdom is in an oasis in the middle of a desert. Even if it's beautiful, it sounds like a difficult place to live."ย All that heat, and how did they travel over miles of sand?ย Surely not on foot, right?
"Myย home?"ย Merenwen's half-lidded eyes stared off into the distance as they walked.ย "Trees.ย Trees everywhere, white as alabaster.ย Some big enough to live inside.ย My house is one such tree, actually."ย She chuckled a bit.ย "Our settlements surround the capital city of Caetuath, which is built towards the sky out of great stone.ย Its spires rise above most of the trees of the Absylva.ย Ah, and the white fruit is a delicacy.ย I wish I had some here for you to try."
