If you are a Nazi sympathizer, White Nationalist , White Supremacist, KKK member, neo-fascist, and the like, unfollow my blog immediately

REBLOG IF NAZIS OFFEND YOU MORE THAN NIPPLES.

reblog if ur blog is anti-nazi

if ur a nazi or neo-nazi or support nazi ideologies let this be a fucking harsh message that ur not welcome on this blog and I hope you get socked in the face

Open RP - Cawling card

((trimmed @robynbealiar))

Upon seeing the assassin’s blade, it instantly draws two short blades.

The first, held in it’s off hand - claw? - is made of a white steel and gold, with deep pointed grooves and is held backwards, clearly ready to defend against any incoming strike.

The second, a slightly longer blade, curved in the traditional style of a land far from here, is held ready to strike. Though it appears to be from the same set as the first, the colour scheme is completely different. It’s blade is pure black, with a silver grip. Lust like the other blade, they both shimmer with a magical energy.

“Some sort of assassin. I go where I please, and I take what I wish.”

She doesn’t take her eyes off the figure framed in the window. Waiting for it to make a move across the twenty or so feet that separates them.

“Not today, an’ not ‘ere,” she says. “Take your claim elsewhere an’ let me get back to me slavey.”

Beside her the candles gutter one by one in the breeze that blows in from the open window.

“I have already killed tonight. I do not need to do it again. But that does not mean I will not.”

The creature flicks the blades back and forth in an impatient manner. The cloak that it wears seems to shimmer it’s form and makes it hard, in some cases even painful to focus on.

She maintains a steady gaze.

“I only kill for brass so, unless there’s a bounty on you that you want to mouth to, you should scoot before I end up boracic, an’ you take a dirt bath.” She sighs. “You’re the only one of us who has room to scoot.” She raises her free hand palm down and gestures with her fingers for the creature to depart. “So scoot!”

“Ah, you could make a pretty penny killing me. I have even considered claiming the bounty on myself. But it is impossible. I cannot be killed. I will find my gold elsewhere, I am sure this place has enough rooms for me to… visit.”

The creature scuffled up the side of the window, clambering up to the roof.

The window to the lawyer’s office is firmly shut behind the creature, muffling the woman’s inventive profanity. A few moments later the door to the office opens and closes. But no visible figure enters the courtyard.

Meanwhile the creature’s progress is observed. The observer’s steely eyes never leave the avian figure as it climbs upwards. They look and listen very closely. Especially to their colleague’s whispered explanation. A few quick gestures and they silently raise their hood and vanish into the shadows.

Open RP - Cawling card

The moon sits high above the town. It is an unusually clear night - unusually quiet, too. There is no wind, the taverns have all thrown out, all is quiet. It is almost calming, far removed from the usual hustle and bustle that fills the town.

The spell is broken instantly when an echoing sound fills the air, rousing many from sleep, stealing those already awake. Three clicks and a whistle.

To many, it is merely a strange bird, nothing too unusual. Those who are more well traveled, however, will recognise it as the calling card of the ‘angel of death’. Some say that it is a divine agent, killing in the name of the Raven Queen. Others, a serial killer and thief who merely cultivates this mystique to cover their brutality. Little is known in actuality about it, but those who have seen it’s handiwork fear the calling card for the rest of their lives.

In that instant, a small, black shadow appears, running across the roof of the guildhall, carrying a small sack behind it. It drops down to the courtyard, looking around in a curious manner. It appears almost birdlike, though it wears a cloak across it’s form that makes it hard to focus on.

In the night the courtyard is dark, with many gloomy recesses where a person could hide. Indeed it could easily conceal a dozen trained killers, unseen among its other contents.

And indeed on this night at least one pair of unseen eyes watches the feathery thief, and waits.

The thief wanders the courtyard, peering into the buildings with one of his round yellow eyes. From it’s belt, it draws a small roll of items, obvious to the trained eye as a set of thieves’ tools. Gently setting to work, it fiddle’s with the lock to the Lawyer’s office.

The thief is stymied at its task. For the lock is obstructed by an object within the tumblers. Careful examination reveals that it may very well be the key, stuck in the door from the other side and turned just enough to prevent it from easily being pushed out.

Further reveals the dim flicker of candlelight within the office. It appears to be occupied by someone or something.

After a few moments attempting to open the door, it loses interest, moving onto another angle of attack. Hiding it’s bag of treasures in a nearby bush, the figure clambers up to one of the three large windows that face into the courtyard front the office, peering inside quietly.

Within the offices a young woman wearing the uniform of one of the guild’s servants potters around. She holds a three pronged candlestick aloft in her left hand while the other hand wields a feather duster with consummate skill. She deftly avoids toppling the numerous stacks of papers and books scattered around the office. Whistling softly to herself as she works.

Suddenly she stops, puts down her tools and hefts open one of the books atop a stack. She looks at what’s written and slips out the bookmark, moving it forward a few pages, before she closes the book again. Then she’s back to the dusting.

Open RP - Cawling card

The moon sits high above the town. It is an unusually clear night - unusually quiet, too. There is no wind, the taverns have all thrown out, all is quiet. It is almost calming, far removed from the usual hustle and bustle that fills the town.

The spell is broken instantly when an echoing sound fills the air, rousing many from sleep, stealing those already awake. Three clicks and a whistle.

To many, it is merely a strange bird, nothing too unusual. Those who are more well traveled, however, will recognise it as the calling card of the ‘angel of death’. Some say that it is a divine agent, killing in the name of the Raven Queen. Others, a serial killer and thief who merely cultivates this mystique to cover their brutality. Little is known in actuality about it, but those who have seen it’s handiwork fear the calling card for the rest of their lives.

In that instant, a small, black shadow appears, running across the roof of the guildhall, carrying a small sack behind it. It drops down to the courtyard, looking around in a curious manner. It appears almost birdlike, though it wears a cloak across it’s form that makes it hard to focus on.

In the night the courtyard is dark, with many gloomy recesses where a person could hide. Indeed it could easily conceal a dozen trained killers, unseen among its other contents.

And indeed on this night at least one pair of unseen eyes watches the feathery thief, and waits.

The thief wanders the courtyard, peering into the buildings with one of his round yellow eyes. From it’s belt, it draws a small roll of items, obvious to the trained eye as a set of thieves’ tools. Gently setting to work, it fiddle’s with the lock to the Lawyer’s office.

The thief is stymied at its task. For the lock is obstructed by an object within the tumblers. Careful examination reveals that it may very well be the key, stuck in the door from the other side and turned just enough to prevent it from easily being pushed out.

Further reveals the dim flicker of candlelight within the office. It appears to be occupied by someone or something.

Open RP - Cawling card

The moon sits high above the town. It is an unusually clear night - unusually quiet, too. There is no wind, the taverns have all thrown out, all is quiet. It is almost calming, far removed from the usual hustle and bustle that fills the town.

The spell is broken instantly when an echoing sound fills the air, rousing many from sleep, stealing those already awake. Three clicks and a whistle.

To many, it is merely a strange bird, nothing too unusual. Those who are more well traveled, however, will recognise it as the calling card of the ‘angel of death’. Some say that it is a divine agent, killing in the name of the Raven Queen. Others, a serial killer and thief who merely cultivates this mystique to cover their brutality. Little is known in actuality about it, but those who have seen it’s handiwork fear the calling card for the rest of their lives.

In that instant, a small, black shadow appears, running across the roof of the guildhall, carrying a small sack behind it. It drops down to the courtyard, looking around in a curious manner. It appears almost birdlike, though it wears a cloak across it’s form that makes it hard to focus on.

In the night the courtyard is dark, with many gloomy recesses where a person could hide. Indeed it could easily conceal a dozen trained killers, unseen among its other contents.

And indeed on this night at least one pair of unseen eyes watches the feathery thief, and waits.

Followers for Flint Holiday Charity Drive!

I have been thinking about ways we can use our blog and our WoW RP community to connect and spread good tidings. With that in mind, I’ve decided to run a charity drive this year. Depending on how successfully it goes - we may make this an annual event! I am hoping you guys will jump on board and help us make this lots of fun for a good cause.

Our charity for 2016 is The United Way of Genesee County - Flint Water Fund. 

“The United Way of Genesee County has set up this fund for the purchase of filters, bottled water, emergency support services and prevention efforts. 100% of the fund is used for these projects and no Administrative Fee is assessed.”  

For every Like & Reblog we get, we will donate $1.

For every new follower we get, we will donate $10. 

We will cap out at $500 or December 31st, whichever comes first. 

Help us meet our goal! Like, Reblog, BOOST! Tell your friends! We welcome all followers - but especially love WoW & Roleplay blogs.  

Happy Holidays!

xoxo

Our Collective Fantasy

As of 12-16-16 we have so far raised $126 for Flint! Awesome job, guys! And we can do even better! 

Remember that ALL REBLOGS donate $1!

It’s doesnt have to be just your main OC blog. Reblog on your alt blogs, your OOC blogs, your completely unrelated fandom blogs. Every boost counts. Got 20 blogs? Great! That’s $20! Lets raise some more cash. Flint still needs our help!

Anyone in the @weareadventurers collective want to do something similar?

Closed RP

There was a lull in the battle outside. Count Magvyr looked up from his desk and smiled.

He became aware of just how thirsty he was. Ringing the bell brought a young lad, he had sent all the warriors out, with a tardiness that only extenuated how he hungered. Still the boy would suffice.

The sudden hiss from the end of the desk brought the count to a halt. The small furry pest that had curled up there unseen until now hissed and spat at him with a fury like a pot boiling over. He reached out and attempted to grasp it by the neck to silence the beast and was surprised as it swatted his hand away with a barbed paw. He sucked at the wounds that had appeared impossibly upon his knuckles and tasted his own blood.

The Magpie blinked as if waking from a dream. 

“Grandmaster?” the young assassin in training looked concerned at them.

The Magpie reached over and scrawled a mark upon a piece parchment. A pinch of sand dried the ink and they whisked it to the boy.

“Go down to the field and find any of the lieutenants. Present my mark if challenged. I’ve changed my orders. Impale only the dead and release the living. I must go and speak to someone, alone. I’ll be back by dawn.”

The boy hesitated.

“Go!” The Magpie bellowed. “While there’s still time!” 

The boy fled.

The Magpie sought out their ice cold cloak and followed on behind. Via the kitchen.

Closed RP

The Magpie shuddered and released the blinds. Pulling Magda’s hand from their breast they turned and looked up, regarding her deeply, as if trying to discern her soul.

“I am not Father.” They said definitively. “I am already labeled tyrant. I already rule the assassins with an iron fist in a moleskin glove. I have no need to sink to further depravity!”

A cat purred around their ankles but they ignored it.

She met their gaze, her eyes seeming to fill their awareness.

“You said it yourself,” she said. “They want father. They need father. You are their tyrant. Be the tyrant they want and need. Be father.”

She stepped back.

“What of the others? My siblings? What became of them?”

The Magpie gave an uncharacteristic grunt, holding a hand to their brow, stroking it as if to soothe it.

“Those that didn’t die, fled. Those that returned to challenge me, died.” They regarded Magda with heavily lidded eyes. Their features seemed to sag upon their skull. “They are scattered. Of no consequence.”

The cat took off and found a cushion to rest on, it’s tail wagging as it curled upon it, regarding the room with a cold gaze, not unlike that of The Magpie.

“Perhaps you should have your people dispose of them” Magda said, speaking of her other siblings. “If they hear of your troubles, as I did, then they might join forces against you. You should act decisively now.” 

She reached out to pet the kitty.

The animal hissed and spat at her before bolting away to another part of the room.

The Magpie ignored them and returned to their desk.

“You’ll have to excuse me I have preparations to make,” they said. They pulled a ring off their finger and placed it on the desk before them. “Take this with you. My people will know that you are mine…” They frowned. “My…”

She glared at the cat and strode across the room to recover the ring. It was a black band of jet carved into the shape of a feather. At the base of the feather was a setting which displayed the assassin’s crest. She slipped it onto her own finger and made her excuses. Fleeing the monster she had woken.

The Magpie grunted at her departure and sat back in contemplation. After a few minutes they turned to the nearest assassin.

“Summon my lieutenants immediately. We have to prepare for tonight’s battle.’ The assassin acknowledged the order and departed.

First of the lieutenants to appear was Marlen Bloody-Handed, named for crimson birthmark that marked his right hand and not for the hundreds of lives he had ended.

The second to arrive was Jorja Greenbranch. Ranger turned bounty hunter turned hired killer. The Order had given her direction and purpose.

The third and final was Valdimárr Omdahl. From the Old Country and claimed to be a distant cousin to The Magpie. But had never bothered to prove it. But he had displayed the sorcerous powers of the death-touched in the past.

The Magpie took their reports on the state of the fortress and its inhabitants. They could essentially last indefinitely. The castle had numerous hidden routes in and out. The besieging forces could spend years waiting for them to break. The only worries were presented by the siege engines. But the forest was difficult to work. The rebels could easily be worn down by the wildlife alone.

“No.” The Magpie snorted. “We break the siege tonight. Everyone who can fight, will.” They laid out their plan. A general skirmish attacking along three routes and pushing the rebels back into the forest.

“Kill anyone who resists,” they said. “Let anyone who flees to do so. Any prisoners. Use them to replant the forest.”

“You want the prisoners to replant the forest?” Jorja asked, puzzled.

“Take a long stake. Sharpen one end and plant the other in the ground.” The Magpie growled. “Take a prisoner and plant them on the stake, arse first. Gravity will do the rest.”  Valdimárr nodded in agreement.

“This is not how you taught us to do things, Grandmaster,” Marlen said, his face a mask of concern.

“Tonight I’m making some changes.” The Magpie’s eyes blazed, their teeth ground with barely contained fury. “Ensure you are not among them.”

Closed RP

The Magpie shuddered and released the blinds. Pulling Magda’s hand from their breast they turned and looked up, regarding her deeply, as if trying to discern her soul.

“I am not Father.” They said definitively. “I am already labeled tyrant. I already rule the assassins with an iron fist in a moleskin glove. I have no need to sink to further depravity!”

A cat purred around their ankles but they ignored it.

She met their gaze, her eyes seeming to fill their awareness.

“You said it yourself,” she said. “They want father. They need father. You are their tyrant. Be the tyrant they want and need. Be father.”

She stepped back.

“What of the others? My siblings? What became of them?”

The Magpie gave an uncharacteristic grunt, holding a hand to their brow, stroking it as if to soothe it.

“Those that didn’t die, fled. Those that returned to challenge me, died.” They regarded Magda with heavily lidded eyes. Their features seemed to sag upon their skull. “They are scattered. Of no consequence.”

The cat took off and found a cushion to rest on, it’s tail wagging as it curled upon it, regarding the room with a cold gaze, not unlike that of The Magpie.

“Perhaps you should have your people dispose of them” Magda said, speaking of her other siblings. “If they hear of your troubles, as I did, then they might join forces against you. You should act decisively now.” 

She reached out to pet the kitty.

The animal hissed and spat at her before bolting away to another part of the room.

The Magpie ignored them and returned to their desk.

“You’ll have to excuse me I have preparations to make,” they said. They pulled a ring off their finger and placed it on the desk before them. “Take this with you. My people will know that you are mine...” They frowned. “My...”

Closed RP

The Magpie shuddered and released the blinds. Pulling Magda’s hand from their breast they turned and looked up, regarding her deeply, as if trying to discern her soul.

“I am not Father.” They said definitively. “I am already labeled tyrant. I already rule the assassins with an iron fist in a moleskin glove. I have no need to sink to further depravity!”

A cat purred around their ankles but they ignored it.

She met their gaze, her eyes seeming to fill their awareness.

“You said it yourself,” she said. “They want father. They need father. You are their tyrant. Be the tyrant they want and need. Be father.”

She stepped back.

“What of the others? My siblings? What became of them?”

The Magpie gave an uncharacteristic grunt, holding a hand to their brow, stroking it as if to soothe it.

“Those that didn’t die, fled. Those that returned to challenge me, died.” They regarded Magda with heavily lidded eyes. Their features seemed to sag upon their skull. “They are scattered. Of no consequence.”

The cat took off and found a cushion to rest on, it’s tail wagging as it curled upon it, regarding the room with a cold gaze, not unlike that of The Magpie.

Closed RP

The Magpie shuddered and released the blinds. Pulling Magda’s hand from their breast they turned and looked up, regarding her deeply, as if trying to discern her soul.

“I am not Father.” They said definitively. “I am already labeled tyrant. I already rule the assassins with an iron fist in a moleskin glove. I have no need to sink to further depravity!”

A cat purred around their ankles but they ignored it.

Closed RP

The smokey granite mass of Castle Greydhul loomed on it’s lofty foundations casting deep shadows down upon the forces camped at its base. Those forces, united only by their shared animosity towards those that held the castle, were in the process of building siege machines and settling in for the long haul.

They barely noticed the lone figure who weaved through the throng. It was not until she reached the base of the approach up to the castle that she was challenged. But a few words and a brief smile were sufficient to allay the fears of the few guards.

She was evidently no assassin.

She climbed the approach and soon reached the towered gates of the barbican that guarded any further advance across the drawbridge and into the castle proper.

“I am here to see your master.” She said to the sable clad man who challenged her. “I am unarmed.”

“Who are you to demand entry?” he asked of her.

“Why I am Magda Magvyr,” she said, staring him down. Her back straight and her gaze imperious. “Scion of the house Magvyr and heir to these very walls!”

@weareassassin

The Magpie leaped at the name. Surging onto their feet from behind their desk. Their eyes ablaze. An unbidden smile upon their lips.

“Magda?” They said excitedly. They caught their reflection in one of the many mirrors that were scattered throughout the shuttered solar and stiffened. They composed themselves once more and straightened their attire. “Show her in,” they said with barely contained enthusiasm. “At once.”

They circled their desk and sat upon its edge, hand upon the pommel of the dagger at their waist. Madga Magvyr was a name they had not heard for over a century and there was every possibility that their guest was an imposter.

She entered the room like she owned it. Like the royalty, that at heart, she was.

“Little bird?” She said, not quite believing her eyes at the slim and pale figure that stood before her. Bright steely eyes that met her gaze from under and tight cap of platinum blonde hair. “Little bird!”

She surged forward, arms outstretched. She was oblivious to the concealed figures around her, already reaching for their weapons as she flung herself at the long lost sibling before her.

The Magpie’s quick gesture was the only thing that saved their sister’s life. The assassins around them stepping back into the shadows as they themselves stepped forward and caught Magda’s embrace.

“Magda, dearheart, where have you been? I looked high and low for you after…” they hesitated. Magda had been a favourite of father. But they were unsure if she had reciprocated his affections willingly. Or if it was the elder vampire’s ensorcellment that kept her at his side.

But as they looked up at her eyes they remembered her whispering the plans of their escape. They would go on ahead while she stayed behind just long enough to hide their tracks. She would then meet them again once the coast was clear.

“After father,” they concluded. “What happened to you? Where have you been?”

“It took me until midday to throw Vladislav off the scent.” She said. “By nightfall I was halfway to the coast.” She sighed and held them close. “Oh Jay there was no way for me to meet with you. I headed overseas and made a new life for myself.”

The Magpie nodded and broke the embrace.

“Come. Let us sit and you can tell me all about it.” They gestured to the seats in the center of the solar and called for refreshments.

They sat together in silence as they awaited the refreshments, eyes blazing across the low table between them as they lounged together. The air was heavy with anticipation. Each desperate to learn what had happened to the other across the intervening century.

The tea, when it arrived, was hot and dark. Laced with spices, herbs and honey. The crumpets, still steaming from the oven, were slavered in a thick salty butter and a jam made of local peppers and flowers, that nipped at the tongue and lips.

Magda was like a grass-snake in a nest of vipers. Or a sparrow that had wandered into a rookery. Death lay close at hand yet she seemed innocent of the peril.

“So my darling little Jay has grown into the dreaded Magpie. Feared assassin,” Magda said. “Not the path you wanted to take I think. Not with the ire you had against father. I always thought you’d take, if not a noble path then certainly a more benign one.”

The Magpie sipped their tea and regarded their sister across the rim of their cup before speaking. Weighing each word with care.

“I made no plans beyond ending Father’s evil. But I had choices. Ending Father ended all of those. I chopped off his head,” their hand briefly caressed the curved dagger at their side, “and hurled it into the fire. But in the next instance his most recent paramore rushed at me. I could have stepped aside. I could have disarmed her. But I was hurt and near death myself. So I grabbed her and drained her dry. Just as Father would have done. The moment of my greatest triumph became my defeat. In defeating the monster I became it. Father could not have planned it better.”

“What is it the locals say?”  Magda said. “ The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men. Gang aft a-gley.” she quoted.

She smiled at her sibling.

“Deep down you’re too good a person Jay. Your intentions are always greater than your resources. You always over stretch yourself.”

The Magpie laughed, an uncommon sound.

“I am not a good person by any measure. I am a killer. I kill only for money and in self defence because if I didn’t set those boundaries I would never stop the slaughter. I enjoy it too much. At times I crave to quench my thirst on the blood of others. It is kindness that stays me.” 

They placed their cup on the table and jumped from the couch where they lounged. Stalking to a shuttered window. Their hand on the rod that controlled the shutter blinds they raised them just enough to see down onto the camp outside the castle walls.

“Look at them Magda. I liberated them from Father’s rule. I gave them freedom and so they used it to wage war upon each other. I slew would be conquerors before they violated the soil of Fon Choille with their tread. But all I have done is unite the people against me. It’s almost as if they want Father.” They sighed.

“If I was Father...” They shook their head sadly and left the thought unspoken.

Closed RP

The smokey granite mass of Castle Greydhul loomed on it’s lofty foundations casting deep shadows down upon the forces camped at its base. Those forces, united only by their shared animosity towards those that held the castle, were in the process of building siege machines and settling in for the long haul.

They barely noticed the lone figure who weaved through the throng. It was not until she reached the base of the approach up to the castle that she was challenged. But a few words and a brief smile were sufficient to allay the fears of the few guards.

She was evidently no assassin.

She climbed the approach and soon reached the towered gates of the barbican that guarded any further advance across the drawbridge and into the castle proper.

“I am here to see your master.” She said to the sable clad man who challenged her. “I am unarmed.”

“Who are you to demand entry?” he asked of her.

“Why I am Magda Magvyr,” she said, staring him down. Her back straight and her gaze imperious. “Scion of the house Magvyr and heir to these very walls!”

@weareassassin

The Magpie leaped at the name. Surging onto their feet from behind their desk. Their eyes ablaze. An unbidden smile upon their lips.

“Magda?” They said excitedly. They caught their reflection in one of the many mirrors that were scattered throughout the shuttered solar and stiffened. They composed themselves once more and straightened their attire. “Show her in,” they said with barely contained enthusiasm. “At once.”

They circled their desk and sat upon its edge, hand upon the pommel of the dagger at their waist. Madga Magvyr was a name they had not heard for over a century and there was every possibility that their guest was an imposter.

She entered the room like she owned it. Like the royalty, that at heart, she was.

“Little bird?” She said, not quite believing her eyes at the slim and pale figure that stood before her. Bright steely eyes that met her gaze from under and tight cap of platinum blonde hair. “Little bird!”

She surged forward, arms outstretched. She was oblivious to the concealed figures around her, already reaching for their weapons as she flung herself at the long lost sibling before her.

The Magpie’s quick gesture was the only thing that saved their sister’s life. The assassins around them stepping back into the shadows as they themselves stepped forward and caught Magda’s embrace.

“Magda, dearheart, where have you been? I looked high and low for you after…” they hesitated. Magda had been a favourite of father. But they were unsure if she had reciprocated his affections willingly. Or if it was the elder vampire’s ensorcellment that kept her at his side.

But as they looked up at her eyes they remembered her whispering the plans of their escape. They would go on ahead while she stayed behind just long enough to hide their tracks. She would then meet them again once the coast was clear.

“After father,” they concluded. “What happened to you? Where have you been?”

“It took me until midday to throw Vladislav off the scent.” She said. “By nightfall I was halfway to the coast.” She sighed and held them close. “Oh Jay there was no way for me to meet with you. I headed overseas and made a new life for myself.”

The Magpie nodded and broke the embrace.

“Come. Let us sit and you can tell me all about it.” They gestured to the seats in the center of the solar and called for refreshments.

They sat together in silence as they awaited the refreshments, eyes blazing across the low table between them as they lounged together. The air was heavy with anticipation. Each desperate to learn what had happened to the other across the intervening century.

The tea, when it arrived, was hot and dark. Laced with spices, herbs and honey. The crumpets, still steaming from the oven, were slavered in a thick salty butter and a jam made of local peppers and flowers, that nipped at the tongue and lips.

Magda was like a grass-snake in a nest of vipers. Or a sparrow that had wandered into a rookery. Death lay close at hand yet she seemed innocent of the peril.

“So my darling little Jay has grown into the dreaded Magpie. Feared assassin,” Magda said. “Not the path you wanted to take I think. Not with the ire you had against father. I always thought you’d take, if not a noble path then certainly a more benign one.”

The Magpie sipped their tea and regarded their sister across the rim of their cup before speaking. Weighing each word with care.

“I made no plans beyond ending Father’s evil. But I had choices. Ending Father ended all of those. I chopped off his head,” their hand briefly caressed the curved dagger at their side, “and hurled it into the fire. But in the next instance his most recent paramore rushed at me. I could have stepped aside. I could have disarmed her. But I was hurt and near death myself. So I grabbed her and drained her dry. Just as Father would have done. The moment of my greatest triumph became my defeat. In defeating the monster I became it. Father could not have planned it better.”

Closed RP

The smokey granite mass of Castle Greydhul loomed on it’s lofty foundations casting deep shadows down upon the forces camped at its base. Those forces, united only by their shared animosity towards those that held the castle, were in the process of building siege machines and settling in for the long haul.

They barely noticed the lone figure who weaved through the throng. It was not until she reached the base of the approach up to the castle that she was challenged. But a few words and a brief smile were sufficient to allay the fears of the few guards.

She was evidently no assassin.

She climbed the approach and soon reached the towered gates of the barbican that guarded any further advance across the drawbridge and into the castle proper.

“I am here to see your master.” She said to the sable clad man who challenged her. “I am unarmed.”

“Who are you to demand entry?” he asked of her.

“Why I am Magda Magvyr,” she said, staring him down. Her back straight and her gaze imperious. “Scion of the house Magvyr and heir to these very walls!”

@weareassassin

The Magpie leaped at the name. Surging onto their feet from behind their desk. Their eyes ablaze. An unbidden smile upon their lips.

“Magda?” They said excitedly. They caught their reflection in one of the many mirrors that were scattered throughout the shuttered solar and stiffened. They composed themselves once more and straightened their attire. “Show her in,” they said with barely contained enthusiasm. “At once.”

They circled their desk and sat upon its edge, hand upon the pommel of the dagger at their waist. Madga Magvyr was a name they had not heard for over a century and there was every possibility that their guest was an imposter.

She entered the room like she owned it. Like the royalty, that at heart, she was.

“Little bird?” She said, not quite believing her eyes at the slim and pale figure that stood before her. Bright steely eyes that met her gaze from under and tight cap of platinum blonde hair. “Little bird!”

She surged forward, arms outstretched. She was oblivious to the concealed figures around her, already reaching for their weapons as she flung herself at the long lost sibling before her.

The Magpie’s quick gesture was the only thing that saved their sister’s life. The assassins around them stepping back into the shadows as they themselves stepped forward and caught Magda’s embrace.

“Magda, dearheart, where have you been? I looked high and low for you after…” they hesitated. Magda had been a favourite of father. But they were unsure if she had reciprocated his affections willingly. Or if it was the elder vampire’s ensorcellment that kept her at his side.

But as they looked up at her eyes they remembered her whispering the plans of their escape. They would go on ahead while she stayed behind just long enough to hide their tracks. She would then meet them again once the coast was clear.

“After father,” they concluded. “What happened to you? Where have you been?”

“It took me until midday to throw Vladislav off the scent.” She said. “By nightfall I was halfway to the coast.” She sighed and held them close. “Oh Jay there was no way for me to meet with you. I headed overseas and made a new life for myself.”

The Magpie nodded and broke the embrace.

“Come. Let us sit and you can tell me all about it.” They gestured to the seats in the center of the solar and called for refreshments.