I still need to work on getting hang of RPs, I just realized…

*laughs nervously* It isn't your problem Poinsettia, you made the setting very clear… it is more of a misunderstanding caused by my terrible planning skills…

Which is why this post is entirely dedicated to getting this straight, and the next will be Kalarix's POV. Kalarix isn't the wisest character choice I have made in my two years of character creating, and I get how things might get confusing. (But I'm still going to stick with him because that's how stubborn I am)

Allow me to clarify… The philosiphy behind the designing of Kalarix's mind goes somewhat along the lines of this: His consciousness wavers between two realities, one is the world of Kyngdom and the other a (yet undetermined) sub-reality. His actions in the reality he is currently seeing is duplicated to the other one.

That wasn't very good, was it? Let me try again… 

What I am really trying to say here (I really need to work on my writing and explaining skills, gosh) was that Kalarix dropped into a sub-reality while he was in the pine forest. When he was running through the grassland village of the sub-reality, his body was also stumbling through the forest at the same time. It was by a pure stroke of luck that when he began to bang on the hut door in his 'hallucination', his body had ran into the exact spot of Zara's cottage and was banging on their door. And then we have the scene that has occured. (it is not the same village!)

*sighs*

It's hard to understand, I know. I was planning to downplay his sickness even more during the dialouge that follows, so please, don't worry about getting even more confused.

And do tell me if there are things I still have not made clear please… 

Alright, now that is out of the way… Here goes.

~Kalarix~

Warmth. It was the first thing Kalarix registered, causing his eyesight to flicker open again. Vague shadows danced around his vison, making him to flinch instinctively, running a hand under his battered travelling robe to search for his dagger. "Get-" 

His mind suddenly connected to his head. This wasn't the forest, with its relentless wind and snowstorms. Where was he? The young teenager swivled his head around his new surroundings, taking everything in. 

The room he was in was heavily-carpeted and very cozy, with a hearty fire dancing in a fireplace and artistic paintings covering the walls. One could tell that the owner had taste in decor, and a very refined one at that. It vagely overlapped with some memories Kalarix had, of houses and cabins. The rattling of the windowpanes told him that nature wasn't far off either, instead just outside the door.

"How are you feeling?"

Kalarix jumped in the seat he hadn't noticed he was lying in and turned to look at the orgin of the voice. A man was standing not far from his side, studying his face with dark, inquisitive eyes.

"Where am I?" Kalarix asked, sitting up and feeling rather caught off guard in his current situation. "I was in the woods-"

"You knocked on our door." A young girl in the background replied, looking at him with an expression Kalarix couldn't quite place.

"Nearly broke it down, to be exact." Kalarix's gaze turned to a teenager with untidy brown hair leaning on the mantlepiece. "With that racket-" He shook his head, grinning. "You could scare the wits out of people, you know?"

"Your…door???" Kalarix breathed, feeling a sudden sinking feeling in his chest as his senses and recollections caught up with him. "What door?" 

"But… you were pounding on it." The teenager's smile faded a bit. "You don't remember? But…" He trailed off, waving a hand at the oaken door in one of the walls.

"…" Kalarix thought back to his latest hallucination, the one with the grassland village. A dark inkling slowly began to grow in his heart. "N-no." 

"Then-" Both the boy and girl began at the same time.

"Enough of that, both of you." The man, possibly father of the children, held a hand up for silence. Then, to Kalarix: "What is your name?"

"Ka-" After a pause, Kalarix decided to use his true name. This place was a long way from Long Gate after all, and some titles might help. "Kalarix. Kalarix pur Westchoice." 

Whee, I think I'll join this! I haven't been following the Kygdom discussion very closely, but this sounds fun 🙂 I might do another charrie later.

Name: Tarava pur Lamour

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 19

Appearance: Tumbling, wavy brown hair, worn either loose or braided and wrapped around her head. She has eyes that look light blue when the sun is striking them and dark blue in the nighttime or when they're in shadow. Tall, graceful, with a regal bearing.

Personality: Impulsive, kind, and passionate, but able to hide her true feelings. She is fairly clever and quick-witted, suiting her perfectly for the role she had decided to play…

Strengths/weaknesses: As I said, she is good at acting one way when she really feels another. She can adapt perfectly to almost any situation. However, she must work on being less impulsive, will help anyone who desparately needs it (even if it would be against her own interests), and is slightly in love with a certain young man from the House of Abadore who is supporting Catastrophe (his name is Rulkan – I'll probably RP him too).

Home: Her great palace in the city of Evranel, to the north of Kyngdom (if that's all right? I don't know if the separate nobyl branches are supposed to be in different areas of Kyngdom)

Which Nobyl family is he/she from? You can invent your own branch of the Nobyls: The pur Lamour family

Background: She is still very wealthy and powerful, especially as her parents died and she now controls their estates and fortunes. At the beginning of the ten-year timeskip, she was only nine, and knew very little of what was actually happening in Kyngdom. Her family was always in high favor with Catastrophe, and now she is too, as well as having several powerful friends among the other nobyls. Despite this, however, she is in reality sympathetic to the Resistance and helps them as much as she is able. No one suspects anything – at least not yet…

On which dramatic note, I end.

@Zealatom, I get it now. No worries, you explained fine! Poor Kalarix, though 🙁

Zara watched the boy closely. He seemed to be reviving; color was coming slowly back to his face, and his voice was steadier. But she got the feeling he wasn't very comfortable, to say the least. And then he said he didn't remember pounding at the door. And then – most surprising of all – he said he was a Nobyl.

"Kalarix pur Westchoice!" Alnair stiffened. "You're a Nobyl, then?"

"How can you be one?" Rialtas asked, puzzled. "Nobyls don't go around in pine forests in the middle of nowhere."

"Let him be!" Zara turned to her brothers. "He's probably just lost. It's lucky for him he found our cottage, it's so cold and snowy outside. Kalarix – would you like something to eat?"

"Yes, bring him some of that extra stew,"  Astrakhan said before Kalarix could reply.

Zara gave Kalarix a quick smile and went into the tiny kitchen. It was lined with beautifully carved cabinets of dark wood, and there were white lacy curtains at the windows. The only light came from the candles that were dotted around the room, but she knew where everything was. 

As her hands opened the cabinet door and lifted out a wooden bowl, her thoughts were scurrying everywhere like dry leaves in a strong wind. A Nobyl! A real Nobyl! It had been so long since she had seen any Nobyls but her family. Pur Westchoice… hmm. Hadn't one of her father's good friends been a Westchoice Nobyl? She frowned. Yes, she believed so. But what had happened to him…? Oh well, the point was that there was a Nobyl sitting in her living room, hungry and half-frozen, and goodness only knew why he had come. Flushed with excitement, she ladled the stew into the bowl and re-entered the living room. Phaedron was saying, "Tell us, Kalarix – what brings you here to our cottage?"

KIT–

"Fake names. We need fake names," Aakash said. He was riding on a caramel colored stallion, which seemed half-annoyed to have him as their rider. 

"You need a fake name," I corrected. "I don't. We've been over this."

He squinted at me, considering. Had he forgotten again that not everyone had as much of a reputation as he did? He was a Nobyl, and more importantly, a Nobyl so famously outcast from the rest of his family. I was merely a traveler. 

"Fine," he stated eventually, again bothered by this fact. I wondered if he was jealous of my simple ability to disappear and slide into the background, entirely free of even memory. I knew Aakash wasn't fond of speaking about his past, but I envied him just for having one. Because I was nearly thirty, but I only had a decade's worth of memories. Everything else had been lost.

"Are you going to use the same name as last time?" Our horses began to slow as we got closer to the cabin. Pine trees dotted the land, and there were still piles of snow in the shadows of them. 

"Yes," he said. "Harsith Kanan. And again, we're just travelers, who lost our homes in Paralia ten years ago."

"When Catastrophe took over," I finished. "I know the cover story. Let's go."

We tied our two horses over by a thick copse of trees and taiga grasses, where they'd have something to eat and could be warm. We didn't expect to take long, anyway, though we made sure the horses were in view of the cabin: just so we could reach them quickly, in case the need arised.

Being more talented with interpersonal skills, I took the lead. Aakash trailed just behind me as I knocked gently on the cabin door. "Hello? Is anyone home?" 

Kalarix~

Kalarix's eyes followed the young girl out of the living room and into a nearby dark room, upon which he lost sight of her. He glanced at the two boys remaining in the living room.

The cozy room itself had dropped somewhat visibly in temprature after he had pronounced his name, Kalarix noted. Both teenagers were staring at him rather defensively, but they looked more puzzled than anything. "How are you feeling now, Kalarix?" Kalarix turned his gaze back to the man, still standing where he was. There was a glimmer of something else in those dark eyes now, a faint shine as the man looked over Kalarix's face again.

"I-I'm feeling ok, sir…?" Kalarix attempted nervously, still trying to process what had happened. 

"Phaedron." Phaedron finished for him, a smile warming his grave features. "And these are Riatlas and Astrakhan." He nodded at the two teenagers, who nodded and waved back accordingly.

"Thanks." Kalarix tried to smile back, but it was done awkwardly, and he gave up after one falied try. "I can't really find words to express myself now, sorry…"

"Take it easy." The boy who Kalarix presumed to be Riatlas said, moving to a place closer to the fire. "How long have you been out there? Do you live near here? Is-" A gesture from Phaedron stopped him, but Kalarix could tell that he was full to bursting with questions. The elder, Astrakhan, was also fidgeting a bit at the side of the room. No doubt Phaedron had seen his sons's curiosity too, because he then opened his mouth. "Tell us, Kalarix – What brings you to our cottage?"

"Me?" Kalarix repeated, a thousand answers bursting into his mind like the yearly floodwaters. He really should think things more throughly when it came to names… "I lost my way in the woods while heading through them."

It was at that point the girl re-entered the living room, holding a fair-sized wooden bowl that was filled to its brim with stew. She cocked her head at Kalarix and handed it over, eyes wide with curiosity. "Thanks." Kalarix murmured, accepting it and warming his cold hands on it gratefully. And seeing that everyone was still waiting for him to continue, he exhaled. "I was passing by… and got lost in a snowstorm for two days. That's how I'm here."

"We did have quite the weather for these past days." The girl confirmed, nodding and sending her long hair bobbing back and forth. "Don't you have family? Why are you alone?" 

"Family? I -" Kalarix bit his lip as his vison clouded with scenes of battlefields and fortresses, cities and countryside. Hundreds of fragments, overlapping and fighting. 

He couldn't tell anything…  He couldn't tell anything apart…

"I – I can't say." He stammered, heart starting to thump like a drum.

"You can't say?" The girl glanced up at her brothers as if for help.

"N- I might!" Kalarix improvised. "But I'm not sure-"  He would have said something else, but a searing pain suddenly shot up his neck as the jade ring contracted for the second time. "Argh!"

"Kalarix!?" 

okay I'm finally back!!! Here's Tarava's part.

^Tarava^

Tarava glared impatiently out her window at the crowded streets of Evranel. Kalam should have been back ages ago. Days ago. Weeks ago. How could he spend that much time finding out just a few facts? And the real cause of her impatience, of course, was that she knew something might have happened to him.

A knock came at the door, and she whirled around. A quick glance in the little hand mirror on the wall told her that she was looking composed at least. "Come in."

The door opened, and a young or middle-aged man, not tall and not short, with a secretive, alive face and a way that made him seem as average as anyone could get, entered. "Kalam!" Tarava exclaimed. At last. "What made you tarry so long?"

Kalam shrugged. "These things are difficult to find out, Lady. And I took some precautions to not be discovered, thinking that to be the wisest course of action. But I got some of the information you desire, at least."

Kalam was not a Nobyl, but his family had been linked to the pur Lamours a while back and he was high-up in society, so there wasn't too much eyebrow-raising at Tarava's constant association with him. He was the only person, really, who knew about Tarava's efforts to help the Resistance, and being in sympathy with the Resistance himself, had paired up with her to find out what he could that might help her.

"Well? Tell me, Kalam, or I'll die of impatience!"

"That would be unadvisable," Kalam agreed. "Here is the news, then. From the pur Keteque side, it's certain, or almost certain, that Aakash is still alive. We need to get in touch with him – somehow. And Caladia, from the pur Matian family – I daresay you've heard of her. She might be persuaded to come to our side. I saw her myself."

"Kalam! You didn't!"

He smiled smoothly. "I found a good pretext, never fear. But that's uncertain. And I found more about Kalamix pur Westchoice."

"Oh, yes." Tarava sat down on the bed and looked up eagerly into her friend's face. "What have you found?"

"He's said to have committed suicide. But there seems to be some sort of evidence that he's really wandering around somewhere in Kyngdom, having hallucinations and wasting his time. If we could find him – "

"Yes. Kalam, there's so much to do! I haven't been wasting my time either. There was that Nobyl we heard something about – Phaedron – you remember?" Kalam nodded, and she continued. "I found out about him too. He and his family were chased off their land by Lord Helion, and they just disappeared. They'll surely be with the Resistance, if they're still alive. Kalam, find these people! if you can. I hate to send you away again, but I would appreciate it if you would look for them."

"Of course I will, Lady," Kalam replied. "I have all my life pledged to the Resistance, and I'll help you as long as you help me. I'll start immediately."

"Very well." Tarava accompanied him to the door of her room. "Look among the peasants – you never know which of them might by Nobyls in disguise. Reveal yourself where you deem it wisest. Look in the forests – that's a sure place for Nobyls to hide. But, Kalam, do be careful! I wish I could go with you," she added impatiently, "but I'm stuck here. Good luck!"

Gosh, it turned out long. Oh well :/ Hopefully Kalam, too, can come to Zara's hut. I'll post his form in another comment.

So I was going to post Kalam's form right after I posted Tarava's part but then I had to do something, so :/ Anyway, here it is. Also sorry for all the long posts, admins!

Name: Kalam

Pronouns: he/him

Age: middle-aged? Probably about thirty. I don't have his exact age worked out yet – it might be advisable to actually have him quite young, around Tarava's age, but I don't think so.

Appearance: Average height, secretive face, dark, alive eyes (as in eyes that are dark and alive), a way of "blending in" with a crowd of people and not being very noticeable, rather good-looking.

Personality: Like Tarava, he's able to easily adapt to any situation, and he can get along well with almost anybody. He's usually cool-headed, quick-thinking, and gifted with a fair amount of wit.

Strengths/weaknesses: He knows his way well over most of Kyngdom, and has several friends in good places. However, he isn't a Nobyl and has no magic powers or particular influence to exert.

Home: He also lives in Evranel, when he isn't traveling on errands for Tarava or for himself.

Which Nobyl family is he/she from?: n/a (he isn't a Nobyl – I wasn't planning to have him at all, but he came along and he's useful, so, there you go, he needs his character sheet)

Background: His grandparents were linked to the pur Lamour branch of the Nobyls, and were quite influential at one point. He is still more or less high-class, and though he has never had anything to do with Catastrophe etc. etc., he isn't suspected as being part of the Resistance. He decided to join the Resistance because his position has enabled him to see Catastrophe's cruelty, and also because he's dissatisfied with just sitting around letting other people do things. (He's a very "action" person)

Alright, time to finally remember to roleplay HA

Eon~

The air was crisp, like an apple that had been sunk in cold water. Eon took a deep breath of it and grinned at the moon. 

"What I wouldn't give to dance with her," Eon said as she let out a lighthearted sigh, "but alas she is the moon and I am merely a star."

"Are you done being melodramatic?" A passerby huffed. Eon didn't notice, and kept on waxing poetic.

"The lady of the night, ah, yes. I bet the Earth thinks himself the luckiest planet in the system to have such a dance partner as you."

Eon say down against a wall and brought out a bit of bread and cheese from her bag. A meager dinner, but a welcome one nonetheless. It was gone in a few minutes. Eon scuffed her hands together to get rid of the crumbs.

"That's the last of it, I'll have to perform again to afford breakfast tomorrow. I wonder if the villagers have anything against telekinetic artistry…"

~~

I don't know when this night is going to be over so I'll be on the lookout for the timezone lol 

Oops, it's now my turn to do some explaining. I was thinking of changing Phaedron's name to Astrakhan, so I called him that in my last part, but actually his name is still going to be Phaedron. Sorry for the confusion! Quick recap: Zara's father is Phaedron, her eldest brother is Alnair, and her next oldest brother is Rialtas (oh, and spelled with an "lt," not "tl" 🙂 ). Again, I'm so sorry, that was completely careless of me :/

So, here's the next part.

-Zara-

Suddenly Kalarix gave a short gasp, his face tensing with pain.

"Kalarix?!" Phaedron didn't move. His keen gaze was fixed on the boy. "Are you all right?"

"Father, look," came a quiet voice from the corner of the room. Rialtas was standing there, an odd expression on his face. "Look at the ring. It's contracting."

Sure enough, on Kalarix's finger was a jade ring, looking quite inoffensive. Any Nobyl could have worn a jade ring. 

"I don't see anything odd about it," said Alnair, sounding puzzled.

"Well, it's stopped contracting now," replied Rialtas. He sat down next to Kalarix and looked straight into his eyes. "Kalarix. What does this mean? Are you under some kind of spell?"

At that moment came another knock at the door. 

"Oh lord," said Rialtas. "Not another guest."

"I'll answer it," Zara said quickly, and hurried over to the oaken door. At first it wouldn't open, and as her fingers fumbled with the lock, she wondered what was happening. Something seemed to warn her that this was no ordinary night.

For a moment she turned to look back at the firelit room. Alnair and Rialtas were still as stone, waiting for Kalarix's reply. Phaedron, her grave, gray-bearded father, stood by the fire, its light playing wildly over his features. He seemed absorbed in his thoughts, as he so often was. Zara felt a rush of love for her family, gathered together in what might be the last ordinary night of their lives. She could not have explaiend how she knew that her life was changing, that events were sliding and slipping together in new patterns. But she knew it. Resolutely she swung open the door.

Two men stood there; it was hard to see in the darkness of the night who they were. But they were richly dressed, and the taller one bore himself with the haughty, proud carriage of a Nobyl.