They had lost many of their scholars, something that doesn't sit well with Cicatrix. It also doesn't sit well that they were handed this position, a Champion of what feels like ghosts.
For the moment, they rest in their quarters of the Court, watching the sunlight outside dimming lower and lower. They cannot linger here, as much as they enjoy reading the books they've plucked from the depths of the library. Gently, they close the tome they've been poring over, nudging it to the edge of the table with a gentle reach of their ability. They also grab their cloak, pulling it up and over themselves, the gilded decorations resting atop their skull and the flutter of the fabric distorting the halo of light around them.
They must seek out Ira, to fix this error. Tucking the cloak properly and pinning their wings to their sides, Cicatrix turns on their midas kissed hooves, making their way out of the room with a slight duck of their head and beginning their miniature journey to find their new friend, and Sovereign, Ira. The unicorn must be in the Court somewhere, right? So they keep an ear out, listening as they walk with soft steps through the corridors, hearing the clicking of their hooves echoing around them.
"Ira?" It's a soft call, in case the Sovereign is wandering the corridors much like they are. There's no response just yet, and they draw in a breath. Perhaps they'll find him lingering in his own quarters, rather than wandering. After all, being the new leader meant that he had to plan for things, right? It only made sense that he would be somewhere, perhaps thinking over what to do for Denocte, with Denocte.
Steps are taken around a corner, their body leading them without need to engage consciously, until they come to a halt near the chambers that should potentially house Ira. Slowly, a hoof is lifted, clapping against the door in a gentle knock.
Ira’s heart has lodged itself firmly in his throat. He stands in Denocte’s center, after sending out the word he would like to facilitate a Court-wide meeting. He tries to remember to breathe, as he has practiced so many times in the woods outside their city; calming, soothing, rhythmic—and even as Ira practices something he has practiced a thousand times, the elation of the day has stolen from him his ability to remain entirely calm.
Instead, beneath the surface, he is thrumming with exuberance. He had not expected to be chosen by the people. He had offered to serve with the knowledge that he might have to; but without the realization that, among the others who stepped forward, he would be deemed the most capable, the most—what?
Ira clears his thoughts. He has never liked comparing himself to others and, more importantly, the only thing Ira knows he does well is fulfill his duties.
That is what he intends to do. Ira calls the meeting at dusk; the heat of the days have been atrocious, stifling even the coastline. The sun has just begun to set when the first Denoctians begin to trickle in. Ira hosts the meeting beneath the statue of Caligo, where they had all been summoned, not so long ago, by their goddess.
“Thank you all for gathering this evening,” Ira begins. He finds himself pacing, albeit not nervously, in front of an open space before the statue. Movement allows him to speak more fluently, he thinks. “This, in no way, is intended to be a coronation or similar event, although I plan to host one in the future… No,” Ira’s eyes flash and a smile flits as briefly as a bird across the too-blue sky. ”No, I would prefer my first act of Sovereign to be something for the people, not myself.”
Ira continues, keeping his voice level even as his heart beat-beat-beats in his chest, a feeling like euphoria. It does not make sense to Ira he feels his adrenaline here, before these people he has known most of his life, versus in the woods facing off with a bear or beast. “That said, I will be facilitating the Trial of Champions for the remainder of the season, and into the fall. Denocte does not currently have a Champion of Community or a Champion of Healing, and this is unacceptable. It leaves us vulnerable to external influences, and our community fractured. I have noticed it, and I am sure you all have noticed it as well.”
Ira flashes another brief smile. He steps forward, so he no longer rests beneath the shadow of Caligo, but so that he walks among the people who have attended. “This will be done differently than in the past. I do not ask for you to step forward with words of allegiance in this moment, or of passion. It is an easy thing to do, when one is filled with patriotism before their brother and sisters. What I ask is much more difficult.”
Ira takes the time to measure those around him with his eyes. He adds: “That said, it is finally time for Champions to fulfill their roles within our Court. I step forward with that expectation as Sovereign, both of myself and of those applying. That said, the Champions of Healing and Community will be chosen not on a basis of a speech they give here, but on how they go out into Denocte and serve.”
The dark stallion pauses, before adding: “Thank you for your time. If you have any questions, step forward; otherwise, go forward and enjoy our Lady Night. Come next seasons time, we will decide upon our Champions, on a basis of all that they have accomplished.”
upon the conduct of each depends the fate of all
♦︎
@ everyone! | further information can be found here
he purpose of the Champion Trials are intended to eliminate issues of the past. Specifically, they are intended to be: 1. More work intensive for the applicant in order to facilitate activity but 2. Less biased.
This said, regime auditions will not be hosted until these are finalized. Moving forward, Ira intends the expectations of Champions to be significantly raised ICly. Reading their descriptions in the Guidebook, they are intended to have quite an active sphere of influence, and I would love to bring this to life!
Moving forward, Ira will host Champion Trials at least once an IC year (these are just for ranks of Champion of Community, Wisdom, Healing, and Battle). These Trials will (hopefully) grow in complexity and serve not as a challenge to existing Champions, but as an opportunity to build community within Denocte and create opportunities for characters to move/progress through the ranks. Up until this point, I have not seen/experienced much emphasis placed on a Medics ability to become an apothecary or doctor, or a soldier's ability to become a tactician or spy, and I would like to create an environment where these things are encouraged ICly and given a number of opportunities to apply their positions. However, this all begins with active, engaging Champions!
The applicants will be judged on their ability to fulfill the most prompts below within a six-week period, starting today. The applications will close March 7th; the reason for this extended application time is due to the desire to give applicants as many opportunities as possible to fulfill the prompts. In the event that an applicant fulfills all the prompts, it is encouraged they “start the list over.” Applicants will respond to this thread with proof/links to participating in the suggested prompts based off of their position! This list can be ongoing/edited throughout the competition, up until the March 7th at 1159 EST.
And most importantly, remember that these auditions are meant to be fun! Although you are working toward something these are intended to create an active, dynamic environment for everyone to write within! Please come forward and communicate with me any feelings of discomfort or pressure; also remember this is a great opportunity to write your character in a number of environments, with a number of different characters, with a number of prompts! If any of the following is unclear, please reach out so I might answer your questions! I prefer DM on discord, but you can also reach me via @syndicate or @Ira
Champion of Community (open) -
The Champion of Community will be chosen on a basis of activity, their willingness to drive plots forward with a wide variety of characters, and their intearctions with fellow Denoctians. That said, the Champion of Community gains “points” in this process based on how many Denoctians they thread or plot with. Additionally, the Champion of Community oversees Entertainer, Merchant, and Citizen ranks. Arguably, they are the most influential/important Champion position. Here are the prompts:
The applicant solves a dispute between an NPC and actively played Denoctian (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant facilitates threads with at least three members of Denocte (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant facilitates threads with at least five members of Denocte (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant facilitates a thread with two or more active Denoctians in one thread (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant participates in a miniature celebration of their design (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant visits the markets and interacts with a number of NPCs, with another Denoctian (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant discovers an issue within Denocte, and brings their suggestions on how to strengthen the community to Ira (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant threads with both existing Champions (@Katniss and @Cicatrix) in order to collaborate ideas about the Court (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant attends an event hosted by a Denoctian entertainer, ICly (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant checks in on the success of the current Denoctian merchants, ICly (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant recruits a character, not a part of Denocte, to join Denocte ICly (the character does not have to agree, what is important is the act is made by the applicant to recruit). (Completed: Yes | No)
These prompts are not placed in a specific order, and will be scored “equally.” The importance in this application process is the creativity and effort of the applicant. Threads do not necessarily need to be finished in order to be “counted” but I would prefer that they are least halfway completed/near completion. If you have additional ideas for what Champion of Community might need to accomplish ICly, please suggest them within a week of the auditions opening, and I will add them! Additionally, the Champion of Community has a much longer list of potential/preferred activities than the other Champions due to their importance within the Court, and the expectation they oversee the other Champions.
Champion of Wisdom (Currently Closed) -
The Champion of Wisdom is meant to uphold the scholarly sect of Denocte. That said, within this six week span, the current Champion of Wisdom (@Cicatrix) is encouraged to facilitate the following interactions, in no order:
Because there are so few scholars, Cicatrix is encouraged to recruit scholars for Denocte. This can be done both within the Denoctian community, and externally (i.e. other Courts) However, this does not mean the character has to say "yes", only that Cicatrix attempted to persuade someone. (Completed: Yes | No)
Collaborate with existing scholars in a thread (Completed: Yes | No)
Contribute some source of wisdom to the regime, whether it be advice or historical (Completed: Yes | No)
Thread with at least three Denoctians and bring up subjects pertaining to “wisdom” (Completed: Yes | No)
Cicatrix facilitates a thread with Ira specifically discussing her duties and expectations in the position (Completed: Yes | No)
Champion of Battle (Currently closed) -
The Champion of Battle is entrusted with the upkeep and training of Denocte’s soldiers. That said, this position is often overlooked in that they might facilitate “training” activities with Denocte’s soldiers, or come forward with concerns of security, etc. to the regime. The Champion of Battle is also strongly encouraged to appoint soldier subgroups, to include: spies, tacticians, and battlemages. These positions should be advertised ICly as “ranking up” from a common soldier. The current Champion of Battle @Katniss is encouraged to complete or facilitate the following threads:
Facilitate a training thread with each active Denoctian soldier ( @Renwick and @Ciaran). This thread can include unjudged sparring, a defensive mission along the borders of Denocte against bandits, etc. (Completed: Yes | No)
Recruit at least three citizens and/or foreigners ICly to become a Denocte soldier. They do not have to agree, but the IC act of recruiting them to “join the cause.” (Completed: Yes | No)
Spar with a member of the community requesting to “learn how to fight.” (Completed: Yes | No)
Report to the regime (i.e. Ira atm) with IC ideas on how to improve the efficiency of the Denoctian fighting force. (Completed: Yes | No)
Defend the Denoctian border against NPC bandits/raiders/etc with one other Denoctian, preferably a fellow soldier. (Completed: Yes | No)
Champion of Healing (open) -
The Champion of Healing oversees all medical practicies within Denocte, to include the subranks of apothecary, gatherer, and doctor. The Champion of Healing oversees all injuries and health issues. Therefore, they need to be actively involved with the healers of the Court and, potentially, frequent the Hospital of Terrastella in order to gain additional medical knowledge.
The applicant heals a character ICly from an injury (a good idea would be to heal a Denoctian soldier after they experience a spar/skirmish!). (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant comes to the regime explicitly expressing needs for additional funding/attention for their medical program. (Completed: Yes | No)
The applicant comes forward with an idea ICly on how to improve the impact of medics within Denocte (Completed: Yes | No)
They have an IC discussion with a fellow medic on how they are interested in pursuing Champion of Healing (Completed: Yes | No)
They ICly collaborate with the Champion of Battle on the importance of maintaining a quick reaction medical force in the event of a major injury or event. (Completed: Yes | No)
Heal a citizen or merchant after an accident of some sort (Completed: Yes | No)
Another fucking sovereign. How many of these did Delumine have to go through until they got it right? Apparently, no one was any good at the job so it made Sloane wonder how well this new asshole would do. He seemed the least terrible out of the group, though that wasn’t saying much. Somnus and Ipomoea were far too soft. However, people liked soft. People liked knowing they could come to their king or queen and bring up an issue without getting their heads shopped off. Sloane rather liked assholes, they didn’t take any bullshit. Some people needed to have their asses handed to them from time to time. Would Andras have the balls? There was no telling.
After the final ballots had been cast, Sloane was one of the first to come up to her new Sovereign. She had a very important matter she needed to discuss with him, something that could not wait until some coronation or party of some shit like that. Sloane didn’t give any fucks about that sort of stuff. Then again, Sloane didn’t really care much about anything except herself, so really, it’s not a surprise that her need to speak to Andras involved a personal matter.
Sloane weaned through the crowd, pushing past the ones who didn’t get out of her way. She wasn’t here to stand around and look pretty. In fact, she was on a mission. The streets were crowded and she hated crowds. People were brushing against her side and stepping on her toes. It was awful. How people lived like this was a mystery to her. She hated everything about court life. Perhaps that’s why she loved her island so much.
Finally, she managed to make her way through the crowd and came marching straight up to Andras. She looked rather determined with a scowl on her face. Had most of Delumine been ignorant of her citizenship, then her approach might seem a little forced and threatening. Thankfully, most of Delumine knew enough to keep out of her way and she wouldn’t bother them. "Look buddy." Her words came out short and forced. Nothing about her greeting was kind or welcoming. Sloane didn’t have time to try and paint some false picture that she actually cared. "Let’s make one thing clear. Somnus gave me my own private island years ago. I expect my privacy to be respected. Stay the fuck away from my island and I'll stay out of your hair." Was this any way to speak to the new king, no. However, Sloane wasn’t here to play nice…then again, she never was.
Somehow I skip over the rest of it, or at least my subconscious brain does. This is the line I settle on obsessing over, picking apart, wondering if there is some deeper meaning. The ink is thin and pitch-black. I wonder if the feather he wrote it with is his or someone else’s (and I find myself utterly heated by even the thought of the latter). Think of your favorite place, he says, and I do not think of my room with its window and its goldenrod light, or the courtyard and its stoop-backed fig tree. I do not think, even, of my mother’s closet and the robes that still smell like her.
What I think of immediately—what I want to say, though I would never dare—is that my favorite place is under his wing. Against the sharp line of his shoulder. Or, if I am greedy, the soft curve of his throat where he always smells like pine; where sometimes, if I am not very careful, I catch myself on the verge of biting down.
(After all: if he is dead, he cannot leave me.)
I stand at the edge of the creek and wonder, with a knot in my stomach, what it is that we need to “talk about”.
Maybe—maybe it’s about his new position. Of course I noticed that he signed it Delumine Emissary, and I have goaded him with the name Warden enough times to see that his position, as tiresome as I might find it, is important to him. But I know his king is gone now, like all the rest of them but Dusk; I wonder who he is serving. Perhaps that is the cause of our discussion. He’s taking over. Or he’s leaving—running away from the empty throne.
I don’t think he would, though. And the knot in my stomach forms again.
It is mid-morning, and the world by Amare is pleasantly warm, much more temperate than I’m used to. At my feet, a long silk blanket holds a wicker picnic basket, filled with figs and dates and all the other goods that I had the kitchen staff pack up before I left this morning, when the sun was just a little smile above the horizon.
I’m not brave enough to turn when I hear his hoofsteps.
willoughby lovelace
night - grab my arm save me from this bloody destiny
She couldn't sleep.
Night had long since fallen, and Willoughby could not sate her boredom. She crept away from the place she had tried to rest for the night, her mind going a mile a minute. She felt both excitable and weary. It was a strange sensation to be sure, the creeping bubbling that felt too exhausting to display.
She wanted to believe there was a place for her in Novus. It felt so simple at first, so foolish... to roam without needing a place to belong. But now the maiden felt winter's distant chill and realized she had nothing to call her own. Walking along Eluetheria Plain, she didn't know what she sought now. Adventure was out there, beyond this realm... Dare she go to it?
Or did she remain, trying to find a place? Join a court? Settle for the mediocre worship of gods that never revealed themselves to her? Save for Caligo's brief presence, Willoughby did not know if they even glanced at her. A vagabond - a lost soul, as the goddess had said to her - was next to nothing. The maiden breathed in the night's cool air, closing her eyes.
When she opened them, a few minutes had passed. She stayed where she was, standing there in the midst of the field, a silhouette made of pastel and feathers. But she was no longer alone. He appeared out of nowhere, spotted her and approached. She smiled almost forlornly as she greeted her friend. "Galileo."
Pol sighed as she gazed around her. This was insane. Why would her sister want to see her? They had been so angry and hurt, so emotional at their last meeting. Heck, Pol wasnt sure if she was ready to face her beloved big sister yet. The young mare pinned her ears and shut her eyes, leaning against a wall so that she was out of the way as she fought through the anxiety that gripped her. Her destroyed tail was tucked around her legs and she was panting softly at the emotional overload that was sweeping through her.
The last meeting... well and first technically... had gone as she had expected. Bel had gone from being horrified at the sight of her to defensive and emotional, while Pol had been stuck purely in an emotional whirlwind. Hopefully that big brute was nowhere to be seen. The younger Treader wasnt sure she could handle the judgement that had been in those golden eyes.
Sucking in deep breaths, Pol struggled through the fear and worry. After a solid five minutes of panic, she found herself able to open her lavender eyes and see the court around her. She had been heading to the hospital, wanting to speak to the medics there about more formal training. The moment she stepped into the court, she had remembered that this was the area where her sister called home. At first, the younger mare had walked through, curious to see the equines that called this court home. And partially curious as to if she would see her sister. Then she wanted to see Bel. And then came the panic attack.
Stepping from the shadows, she continued into the court, asking about her sister here and there with no success. Pol found herself stopping out of the way and gazing about her once again. "Bella?" Her voice was a breath on the wind, no force behind it. She was beginning to feel incredibly stupid for even trying, though at the same time she was afraid to give up.
This flaming guardian could be your worst nightmare...
Sol breathed in the early morning air as he took to the skies. His double wings, once a pain to manage, powered him through the cool air with powerful strokes. He had learned a lot about himself in the time that he was away, and spent much time in the clouds as he traveled. He had once been a merchant, though he was still trying to make up his mind on if he wanted to stay that way. Snorting softly into the pale sky, he reveled in the feeling of the currents of air ruffling his fur and feathers. Flying was such a heavenly way to travel.
"Thank you Oriens for this gift..." He murmured to the heavens, stretching his wings to their fullest as he started to direct himself toward the dusk court. There was someone there that he wanted to see, someone he had missed with an almost desperate air. As he flew closer to his target area, his golden eyes started to search for any sign of the aquatic mare. A hint of glow, a wisp of vapor, the flash of a pale flank. All of these signs danced in his mind as he found himself flying lower to the earth. Without even thinking, he landed in the place where he had last spent time with the reptilian equine.
His hooves sizzled in the murky water as he landed in the swamp. Finding a dry spot to stand, he tucked in his wings and gazed about him. It was probably stupid to think that she would be there. It had been so long since he had seen her face. What if she hated him for leaving? What if she told him to leave and never come back. The thought of what could come when he found her was like a blow to the heart and he had to struggle to regain his composure.
"Bel?" He called out, his velvet rich voice echoing over the water as he continued to seek any sign of the mare.
"Speaking"
@Below Zero Notes: I swear it is impossible to make non-cheesy titles XD
These lands are the same, just as he remembers. From the far off sands of Mors to the plains he now steps through.
Leviathan may have been gone for years, but he's back in familiar territory that brings a sense of home to aching bones. Even with his immortality restored, he feels old here. The ancient wound from shoulder to rear across his spine, once laid open wide by a Great Teryr, shines silver on an otherwise dark back, not allowing hair to regrow over the long stripe that runs down a broad back.
The warrior longs to explore, aches to rediscover old places he once knew. Perhaps, if he were lucky, he could recover the old pieces of bone that he had gained as trophies from the Teryr before. Those would likely lie in Solterra, far from here now, but he is in no rush. The titan wishes to find more here, to familiarize himself, perhaps find old faces. Part of him doubts that those faces would be around... not right now. It seems Novus has simply moved on in time, and friends and foes alike were likely gone.
Eden. Advtoya. Seraphina. Bexley. Torstein. The grizzled fighter doubts very much he'll lay eyes on any of them again.
A snort blows from his nostrils, his heavy horned head shaking before he relaxes, taking steps into a near trot through the plains, stretching his muscles and sending his bulky body into a smoother step. It doesn't take much to reach the stream, his feathered legs stepping down into the water and feeling the cold liquid coil through the hair. It brings weight immediately, and he keeps stepping forward, sinking further and further into the water until it almost touches his belly. At nineteen hands, it's quite the feat, and he only dips his head to touch scarred lips to the water, drinking his fill and relaxing himself slowly.
For now, he can drink and bathe, rinse away the journey here from Solterra.
